Sweet Disease
by Blue Sky Rage
Summary: Things don't go as planned and Sam is only able to retrieve Flynn's disc... and not save Quorra. Father and son are able to escape the Grid, but what happens when the ISO is left in the clutches of a program who hates everything she stands for?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

_'Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! _  
_Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!' - Emily Bronte_

* * *

Kevin Flynn.

The Creator.

The Father.

My Friend.

My Enemy.

Where are you now? Attempting to escape the Grid… without me. _Out there is our destiny_. It is, at least, my destiny. This was the purpose of my creation, was it not, Flynn? You told me many cycles ago that we were going to change the world… together. Though you may have lost sight of the objective, I have not. Leave the Grid I will, and once out there… _out there_… I will achieve the dream you started so long ago.

Before the ISOs… those are times I think back on fondly. When it was just Flynn, Tron, and I. Though I knew it was me he favored most. Repeatedly he would say, "CLU, man. You and me are just like two peas in a pod." I admit, it always confused me when Flynn spoke that way. Common adjectives he would use were things such as _far-out_ and _radical_. Seemingly nonsensical words, they sounded abhorrent to me. He didn't speak _correctly_. It was something that exasperated me, but who was I to object? He was the Creator. _My _creator… In some ways, he was my father as well. Should I not accept him for his flaws? A part of me hated to do so…

Back then things were full of promise, full of hope. We spoke of unlimited possibilities for the Grid and for the outside world. We had many discussions on the latter. When asking about it, I felt like a mere child. Flynn would humor me and happily answer my questions. He rarely spoke of his life outside of the Grid, except about his son. I remember the first time he spoke of Sam.

"The kiddo is going to love this place."

He meant to bring Sam into our world. I felt something manifest inside of me though I did not show it. I had long awaited the offer by Flynn to bring me into _his_ world. It didn't come and I suspected it would never come. Yet he would give Sam the privilege to see the world that he and I had built. I could not help the resentment that sprang up in me.

Then the ISOs came. Flynn exuberantly proclaimed that this was what we were waiting for. This was the miracle. This was unexpected for me since I was not aware that we had been _waiting_ for anything in the first place. Nonetheless, Flynn said the ISOs were the key. With the ISOs, he'd be able to change everything. The ISOs became his crowning jewels. Why? I don not know. They were incapable of being reprogrammed. They were able to _choose_ what they wanted their primary function to be. I saw them as a disease that was ruining our world of right and order. Why, _why_ couldn't Flynn?

I thought of what he had said to me.

"You and I are going to change the world, man."

I knew him to be a liar. He meant for me to stay in the Grid as he, not _us_, changed the world. He was willing to allow the ISOs to roam rampant and free over our Grid. He was going to take _them_ to the outside world. My love and adoration was no longer strong enough to keep my primary programming at bay. Flynn was imperfect. I saw it clearly and could not resist it. He was detriment to the objective.

I sought to destroy him. Of course Tron, the protector of Users, attempted to stop me. Reasoning was useless; I knew the program would not see it my way. I saw to it that he would never be a problem again. The ISOs were purged from existence. Or, so I thought. Seems like my old friend has managed to keep one safe… Well, at least he _did_.

"Do what you want with me, but I won't give Flynn away."

Her voice breaks through the silence. I ignore her and continue gazing out the grand window. He's out there, somewhere. The girl was discovered without her disc. Not lost, no. Purposely left behind so I won't be able to see what they're planning. Below us, on the master deck, floats Flynn's master disc, all ready connected and awaiting its primary use… To help me leave the Grid.

I turn from the window. The ISO is held firmly by Rinzler. She has no disc, no way of protection. She is as harmless as a lamb. I slowly approach the two with my hands folded behind me. Her square face is firmly set in a small way of courage. My thoughts dance around the decision about eradicating her or not. Destroying her would in no doubt be a blow to Flynn. She is his pupil and possibly… more? Perhaps a love interest.

Her black hair forms the strangest style. My gloves fingers reach out for the tendrils. At the raising of my hand, her pale faces flinches. After her reaction, I retract my touch.

I exhale a long breath through my nose, "Afraid of me, ISO? Undoubtedly, I have been made out to be the villain in this scenario. Be assured, I'm not." She does not seem calmed by this. Surely Flynn has filled her head with lies, much like he did to me so long ago. Why can't she see? Why can't they _all_ see? He is not a savior. He is a _User_.

"You took away everyone I've known and cared about." Her voice is trembling. I cannot tell if it is from fear or passionate anger. Perhaps both. A grin pulls at my face as I begin to slowly walk around her. "I suppose I did." In a wave of my hand, Rinzler is dismissed. The sliding doors close behind him and I've returned to the spot in front of the ISO. Just the two us. Oh, yes, and now I can identify the emotion. It _is_ fear. I tilt my head as I look down at her.

Derezzing her would definitely hurt Flynn so what would there to be gain keeping her alive?

My tongue clicks as I think this over.

She is imperfect. She represents what is detestable. She has the right to _choose_ her point of existence. Such a thing makes control nearly impossible. Thousands of such creatures would be catastrophic, but just one? What could _one_ do? If Flynn could brainwash her into his logic, then why not I? She would be useful if I ever find my position compromised by Flynn. Her life in exchange for what I want.

Yes, I will have her for as long as she is needed. Then she will be deleted with the rest of the imperfection of the world.

"What's your name?"

A confused wrinkle forms above her brow. "Quorra."

I hum in approval. This time when my hand reaches out, she does not flinch. I fix a flyaway strand of hair and trace her jaw line, leaving my fingertips to rest on the bottom of her chin.

"It must have been a lonely existence. Just the two of you cooped up for all those cycles." I whisper in a low, sympathetic voice. "What would you two _do_? What would you two _talk_ about?" I drawl out my words as a finger trails down the slope of her neck. The ISO steps away from me, away from my touch. Quiet rage blanks out any facial expression I may have.

"I told you I won't give anything away." She states with defiance.

Silence travels between the two of us until I force a chuckle. My hands return to their place behind my back as I wander back towards the window. "You misplace your honor in that old, lying man."

I look at my own reflection in the glass. The reflection that so greatly resembles my enemy, yet at the same time… Doesn't. There is something in Flynn's face that does not exist within mine. I cannot tell what it is… My eyes blink before trailing down towards the lighted floor.

"The Creator doesn't lie!" She throws back.

My eyes fly back up and rest scathingly on her own reflection. Turning round, my arms drop to my sides. Electricity pumps through my system. I feel myself engulfed in anger. In a moment, I stride up to her and reach out. My hand grabs her by the throat and thrusts her backwards on top of my desk table. The proud, disgusting thing.

"Do you presume to know him more than I do?" I yell in harsh fury.

She grasps desperately at the hand squeezing her throat. Tears swell in her eyes and I can see her face burning red. "DO YOU?" I lift her head and slam her back into the glass. She shakes her head. I release her throat and grab her hair instead. She sucks in air too quickly and ends up violently coughing. "Who would know him better than _me_?" I whisper vehemently into her ear. His clone, his son, his first creation.

"You seem to be under the false impression that Flynn cares about you, when he does _not_. Do you know why, ISO?"

She can't handle my close proximity and attempts to turn her face away from mine. "Look at me!" still gripping her hair I wrench her face back into my direction.

"You're not _real_, that's why. What are you compared to his son, ISO? _Nothing_. To discern such beauty of the outside world and then to look at _you_, look at _us_… How cold and unreal we must seem! What we are to him is just… a game." A long breath shudders out of me, taking my anger with it.

She's crying now. Not from pain, but from what I've said, I'm sure. Her pale lips tremble and the tears create trails into her hair. She's not sobbing though. Her crying is very quiet. The sound of it creates a soothing and refreshing sensation within me. My fist clenches on the black tendrils causing her neck to arch. I can feel her soft breath beating against my own. My teeth grind together and I push myself from her. I retreat from her body, leaving her crying and trembling on my table.

"Contemptible _virus_." I scorned her as I recollect myself.

My gloved hand goes to smooth my hair when Rinzler. He looks cautiously at the scene before him. The ISO crying on my table and I, on the other side of the room. My face becomes stern, addressing him to speak up. He stands at full salute to me.

"Sir, the User has broken in. The master disc is gone."

I feel fury shake me. Marching out of the room, I bark back at Rinzler to grab the girl and follow. The doors close in the elevator and the small space is alighted by a mixture of red, white, and orange. As we descend, I see the ISO's smile reflected in the glass. "Strange to see you find this so humorous. Especially since the boy found it more pertinent to save the disc instead of _you_." At my cold mocking, the smile fades. "What I said before was not false. Flynn does not _care_ for you, same rings true for his son. All they care for is the outside world."

The elevator door slides open and I march onto the deck. The disc is gone, the window is broken open, and my programs have been derezzed. Rinzler tilts his head to the right. Following his gaze, I see Jarvis cowering partly hunched over as if a child. My nostrils flare in continence. My gaze causes him to stand upright. With a shaky hand, he salutes me.

"Long live-"

My restraint leaves me and before he can utter another word, I rip my disc from my back and slash at his neck. The ISO gives a scream of fright as Jarvis disintegrates before us. I return my disc to its holder and pull out a flyer baton. Rinzler follows my lead and retrieves his own.

"Ride with the ISO. Keep her safe." I order. I can hear her struggling against my right hand man.

"No! I will _not_ go!"

Laying trust in Rinzler to do what he is told, I jump from the window. Opening the baton at shoulder distance apart, the flyer encodes itself around my body and in an instant I am flying through the air with Rinzler and the ISO not far behind. Flynn's face burns into my visage.

"You will not beat me." I growl.

We leave the battalion station far behind. We fly over the Dark Ocean and soon I can see the luminescent white lining of their aircraft. Rinzler comes to fly parallel to me. I can see the ISO strapped to his back; through she fidgets and struggles, she is safe. I move my hand in silent direction to move forward. Rinzler nods and speeds beneath my eyesight.

I take position coming up from their rear, but as soon as I am spotted, shots are fired. It is Sam. The mouthy son of my creator. In twists, turns, and dives I fire back. Flynn turns the light trails on and so do I. Rinzler follows my pattern and we become a duo of red and orange against white. One of Rinzler's shots is finally able to damage the back gunner. He speeds ahead of me and flies over and around Flynn's cruiser before taking his position behind them.

"Take the shot." I whisper.

Nothing comes. He hesitates and then flies off to the side.

"RINZLER!" I roar. His disobedience angers me and sends a shot of fear through my system. He has done nothing of the sort before. Why now? I do not have time to compute.

With barred teeth, I push forward and take his place. I commence fire on Flynn's cruiser. From the right corner of my eye, I see red. Before my system can calculate what it means, I am hit. My flyer, along with Rinzler's, becomes derezzed. Then I am falling, falling. My vision fades in and out of black clouds before restoring. My body is heading for the Dark Ocean.

It cannot end this way. I refuse for it to. What about my destiny? What about my primary programming to create the perfect System? What about _Flynn_? It cannot end this way.

My eyes look wildly about and I see… white. There. The ISO is unconscious and falling, and Rinzler is very near. My body straightens with determination and I am able to point my fall in their direction. Rinzler has rebooted and grasps at a spare flyer baton. Finally, I reach them. My arm snatches the ISO around the waist and I grab at Rinzler's baton. He resists and I kick him repeatedly in the chest until his grip slackens. A punch to his helmet and he falls away from me. For a millisecond, I relinquish my hold on the ISO to open the baton. The flyer encodes itself and I grab her once more. Throwing her in front of me so her chest is against mine and her hands cannot touch any main controls, I fly on. On towards the portal.

* * *

We are almost too late. The ISO rebooted on the race here and now struggles against my grip. Across the bridge, Flynn and his son are about to step into the grand light of the portal. I yell out my creator's name and watch as the old man stops and turns. There is Sam and there is the ISO, but all I see is _him_. Even from the distance, I can see those blue eyes that mirror my own. He will not leave here without me. I will make sure of it.

Grasping my disc, I hold the deadly weapon near the ISO's neck.

"Give me your disc, Flynn!" I demand.

"Or the ISO perishes."

I can see the struggle inside of him but, to my surprise, he does not make a move for her. Instead it is the son that does so. He moves forward but Flynn holds him back. Sam shouts the ISO's name.

"Leave me!" she shouts back at them.

Sam fights his father with vigor but the older man holds tight. He pulls Sam backwards into the light. No. No, this was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to trade for her. I calculated it that way. The son shouts that they will return to save her. Flynn holds up his disc. It leaves his hand and begins to float upwards toward the portal opening.

Carelessly throwing the girl down and returning my disc to my back, I run at them. My body pushes through the threshold of the light and with satisfaction I can see the fear in Flynn's eyes. Suddenly, my movement is restrained. My leg, there is a cord around it. Looking over my shoulder, I see the ISO on the other end, reeling me in. I pull against her but it is no use. My balance is lost and I land on my chest. My hands frantically search for something to grip on to. With desperation, I look up at my creator. His eyes are filled with pity.

I stretch my arm out towards him, my hand held out pleadingly. "You promised!" I yell over the roar of the portal. He shakes his head at me, "I'm sorry, CLU." My arm drops and I continue gazing up into his face as the chord is pulling me further away from him. The light begins to surge and engulf them… and then there is darkness. Air travels heavily between my chest and throat. I push myself to my knees as I gaze at the spot Flynn and his son vacated.

"No." I whisper.

Closed off. Forever. Forever…

An indignant roar rips through me. Emanating from the very center of my system. Turning about, I see the ISO with the end of the chord in hand. Her face had been looking upwards in a dreamlike manner with a small smile on her lips. At the sight of my snarling glare, her lips fell apart and her grip on the chord slackened. "You." I hiss.

Running at her with my disc in hand, I cut the chord before I even touch her. She attempts to defend herself by kicking out at me. My disc shatters her limb. She falls to her back in pain. "YOU!" I repeat in a roar. I throw down my disc and it becomes lodged in the ground. I jump on top of her and reign down punches on her pretty face. My own breathing is heavy and loud and suffocates her cries in the air.

"There will be nothing for them to come back and save! Do you hear me? I will make you pay!"

She says things such as _no_ and _please_. I pay no head. Her face has retained heavy damage from my beating. The pixels holding her face are breaking. Reaching over, I tug my disc from the ground and hold it over her. My fingers dig into her jaw, forcing her to look up at me. "Detestable _virus_ that you are! I should destroy you." But I do not strike. Revelations surge through my circuits. Right now the ISO is the only thing holds Flynn and Sam at bay. If they wanted, they could have deleted me. But in doing so, would delete the system and _her_ subsequently. No, she must not be derezzed. Her survival ensures my own.

I inhale deeply and exhale through my nose. I return my disc to its holder. The ISO gazes up at me in confusion. Her face is no longer attractive but very broken. A finger ghostly trails the highest point of her cheekbone before pulling away. Grabbing her arm, I stand from her and haul her up over my shoulder.

"Let us return to the Grid, little virus."

From my belt, I retrieve my flying baton.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:: ****I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

**A/N:: Right now I have decided to switch from the Rated M, to the Rated T.  
If the story becomes darker, then I will change it back.**

'_I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why shouldn't you suffer? I do!' – Emily Bronte_

___'Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering . . .' - Notes from the Underground_

* * *

There are many things to calculate. Too many things. First was that of Rinzler. He had disobeyed me. It was impossible, and yet… At the sight of Flynn, Tron was able to trace back his original coding and act upon it. This event nearly negates reprogramming altogether. If original coding still exists but the file is only _hidden_… Terrible. This must be fixed. If other programs were able to retrieve their original data the Grid would fall into disarray.

Next was _her_. The ISO. Her body lay before me on my desk table. Her disc open in my hands. From Flynn, I learned about ISO coding. It was all very complex. Beyond him, beyond me. I remember him describing the structure of _human_ coding. Acids, bases, molecules, proteins. The double helix. It did not sound very favorable. But the ISO… her coding is a variation of the form. A mixture between human coding and our own.

In frustration, I bite the inside of my cheek as I move my hand through her CPU. Finally the damages were found. Fluently I removed it from her coding and returned the disc to her holder. It charged and the light of her suit glowed. Her eyes stared listlessly at nothing. I leaned back and silently watched as her leg began to re-encode itself to her body and the skin of her face became impeccable.

Then, there was Flynn himself to think about. So many things surged through me as I thought of the _User_. At least when he was in the System, I could be comforted by the thought that he was alone and miserable. That he was reaping what he sow. But now he was back in his own world. The world that he loved and cherished so much. Now it was I, to be left alone and miserable, in this world of darkness and lights. Meanwhile, he is free to be complacent and out of my grasp. The thought of it creates such violence in me. The thought of him being _happy_. I had longed to stand on the other side and laugh back at Flynn. See his own plan turned on him. It should have been him to be trapped here.

My eyes close as I think back to the look on his face as I was reduced to pleading to him… Pleading for him to take _me_. But he did not. He did not reach out for me as I did for him. He chose Sam instead. My hands clench into tight fists atop my table. The tangibility of my humiliation and failure is overbearing. I exhale and look over the ISO as she remained rebooting. My gloved hand thoughtfully comes to rub my bottom lip.

Will Flynn and the boy come back for her? She is, after all, the key component in achieving everything Flynn wanted. I do not think they would chance another trip in to the System. Flynn is not foolish enough for it. They may be trying to find a way from the outside. But all possibilities seemed obsolete. It all came back to them needing to _enter_ the System in order to get her _out_. Will they disregard her and delete the System to ensure I will no longer be a risk to them? Possibly. Then again, the boy seemed to have an attachment to her.

What a nuisance she will be in my company.

My eyes lazily trace over her vacant face. Languidly, I stand from my chair and pull out handcuffs from my top drawer. Subduing her arms effectively behind her back, I carry her to the couch. At least then she will have a comfortable place to awaken to when she has finally finished rebooting. In my pondering, I continue to stand looking down at her. Another issue to address was that of finding a new Rinzler and a new Castor. I should have calculated twice about destroying the latter. At the time, it seemed my goal would be achieved and there would be no further use of the irritating program. Now… now I am left without an informant and a right hand man. No matter, no matter. Easily fixable.

For a new Rinzler I need only to look at the stadium for the most durable program. For a new Castor… well the Grid is always filled with those wishing to comply with their respected leader. It should produce no problems. With a raise of my brow, I note the ISO's eyes have begun to blink. I turn on my foot and face out the window. Order will return to the Grid. Many of the rebels have shrunk back into hiding on discovering that their leader truly _did_ abandon them by leaving the System. All that is left is capturing the defected and reprogramming them. Ah, the glitch in the reprogramming. I must fix it.

"Flynn?" comes the ISO's fluttering voice.

I do not react nor acknowledge her voice.

"Flynn, I had such an awful dream." Her voice is tight; I can sense her recollecting events. I humor her now, turning so she may see me fully. She gasps as she comes in contact with my blank stare. She must have lost herself… Perhaps she thought it _all_ had been a dream, even the part of Flynn growing old. Her blue eyes, incased in their liquid black, look wildly about the room. Realizing her arms have been subdued, she ceases her fidgeting. Cautiously, I take a seat next to her laying form.

Her jaw is set in a stern fashion as she addresses me, "Why didn't you derez me?"

I do not answer; only sigh as I run my hand over her knee, down her shin, grasping her ankle. I swing her legs forward and pull her up by her suit so she is now sitting beside me. Her body is stiff next to my own. I take no notice as I leisurely allow my arm to curl around her neck. "Do not think of me fond of you, ISO." She does not want to look at me. Instead her attention is focused on the grand window over looking the Grid.

"You are still running because I see you to be useful." I state in a low voice. I lightly run my thumb on the exposed skin of her arm.

"Don't touch me!" she hisses abruptly. Her eyes are squeezed shut as if my mere light caress _is_ painful to her. Amusing.

I retract my arm and lean back slightly to a more comfortable proximity for her. Finally, her eye chances a glace. I tilt my head and give a false encouraging smile. "Better?" I inquire. I notice her pale lips purse together but she nods anyways. "Good." Comes my light appreciation.

"For you see, ISO, I think we can get along just fine… As long as _you_ remain agreeable."

I can feel my features darken as I speak on, "You will _not_ defy me again such as you did at the portal. Do you understand? Or I will make sure you _wish_ for me to derez you."

My threats do not seem to reach her. Her face is free from trouble. The blue eyes trail away from my face and return to looking out the window. Harshly, I grab her jaw. I will not be ignored. "Answer me." I demand in a severe tone. She blinks those large eyes at me.

"I will not, and will never be agreeable to you, CLU." Her calm voice ignites my temper.

I push the whole of my palm against her face so she is pushed back into a laying position. My teeth are barred as I stare down at her. I grab her by her short black hair. "We will see." I snap. She screams as I haul her off the couch and drag her out of my quarters by her scalp.

* * *

Through tedious study and using my personal guards as test subjects, I have finally been able to get rid of the reprogramming bug. Initiative can finally get started. To my gratification, I have been able to find Rinzler's replacement. A program identified by the name of Voltas. To my preference, he says very little, much like Rinzler, but sufficiently serves his purpose. Unfortunately, finding Castor's replacement may not be as easy as I first calculated. I needed someone with high social standing that was able to mix between crowds. None such candidates seem to be around.

There is also the ISO. The despicable little virus. After our dispute, I had her chained into a cell. Perhaps a bit of dreary environment took out her pride.

I exit my quarters and Voltas stands dutifully waiting. He returns my nod and falls into step behind me as I make way for the elevator. The doors enclose us and the descent begins. I stare at my reflection. The soft orange glow lighting up my features in a harsh manner. "Progress?" comes my inquiry.

"She remains stubborn." Answers Voltas.

Voltas who is a head shorter than I am but twice as wide. The program was cold and brutish, to say the least. Not as fast as Rinzler, sadly, but caused more damage once his victim was in reach. Rinzler was gifted with the ability to use two discs, Voltas was gifted with a heavily made staff. The black instrument was held firmly in his right hand. I have seen how deadly the program can be with it.

A sneer breaks my apathetic demeanor. "She is not too damaged, I hope?"

"No, sir."

The elevator opened to reveal the darkened hallway. Many cycles ago, I could recall when every cell in this hallway to be filled. Cells where we would extract information from Flynn's followers through tortuous means. But that was long ago. The rebels now do not harbor any information I wish to extract. If they are not derezzed, they are sent for immediate reprogramming. Voltas leads me down the hall, passed the empty cells, takes a right to her door. The program punches in the code and holds the barrier open for me.

"Remain outside."

Voltas nods and awaits me to cross over. After I pass through, the door closes and locks behind me. The darkened cell has only one strip of thin light that starts from the center of the floor and then surges across to the wall, where it climbs and reaches the ceiling. It travels to the other wall, comes down and returns to the floor. The light is purposely dim and bleak. My eyes need time to adjust. I spot the outline of her form against the right side of the cell.

Finally I am able to see her fully. She hangs by her arms in chains that are locked up at the ceiling, causing her body to stretch and leaving the tips of her shoes to rest on the floor. Her face is quite badly beaten. The sleek black hair is now dirty and in disarray. Her head rests against her right arm. Slumbering or unconscious, I cannot tell. Approaching the girl, I take in every note of injury. After this, Voltas says she still remains stubborn. Admirable.

"ISO."

She does not stir. Her face remains peaceful as ever. I give her a hard pinch on the cheek. Still, she does not show any pain. For a moment, I become panicked that her system may have shut itself down. But this feeling is quieted as her blue eyes come to open. "It's rude to interrupt someone's meditation." She receives a sharp slap for that.

"Silence, ISO. I would like you to answer a couple of questions today."

She says nothing. Only blankly stares at the floor. She may be agreeable after all.

"I want to know what you and Flynn were doing those many cycles. You call him your mentor and master. Why? What did he teach you?" I ask slyly.

She says nothing, and then breaks out in the strangest of smiles. "He taught me about philosophy. About taking yourself out of the equation. Self-sacrifice. Patience. Meditation… I've only now realized how useful these all are. Sometimes I think that he foresaw this happening… That maybe he wanted me to be ready… for you."

I flare my nostrils at this, "Flynn can see into the future no more than I can. He is _not_ a divine entity. Only human. A flawed, lying being."

She shakes her sad head at me, "He's wiser than you give him credit, and he doesn't lie."

Again with the denial of his lying. How could he have filled her system with so much misinformation? I slap her again. She will learn. I grab her by the front of her suit and pull her close to me.

"Once again, you presume to know him better than I do…" I say in a dark whisper. "Flynn has broken many promises, be assured, ISO. I have been with him for more cycles than you have. Do _not_ think you are better than I in his knowledge." I release her and allow her to fall back into her chains.

Her mouth opens and a hesitant breath escapes. "Yes?" comes my curious voice.

"If I didn't know any better… I would say you were jealous of me."

Her impassive expression slowly begins to unravel at the sight of my growing fury. A favorite by me, I grab a fistful of her hair. A shout of fright escapes her mouth. I slap her repeatedly to silence her. "Jealous of you?" comes my hoarse whisper. "Why would I envy such an ugly, foul disease like you?"

She starts to cry. A thought is saved in my programming. The ISO is more vulnerable to verbal abuse than physical. Interesting.

"You should think of yourself lucky, little virus, that I am merciful enough to keep your program running. Did I not heal you when we returned from the incident at the portal? I could heal you now if you like. I must say looking at your damaged face is becoming repugnant."

I suppose she was not use to being degraded in such a way, for more tears streamed from her eyes. Oh, how I do enjoy her silent weeping. The gratification of seeing her so miserable… I take a deep breath in to savor it. Behold, Flynn. Look at your little miracle now. Miserable, alone, abandoned… All because of you.

"I will never ask you, or even beg you, to heal me…" her trembling voice ushered forth.

I give an uncaring wave of my hand, "Why continue with this charade of courage, ISO? You could easily be sitting upstairs, comfortably, in my lounge. At night you could be sleeping in a bed. You would be treated nicely… Does that not sound more preferable to this?" I lift my arms indicating the tiny cell.

She shakes her head; "I won't ever be treated nicely by you."

"Why is that?" I ask with a bemused smile.

She hangs her head, hiding her face from me. "Because you hate me… because I'm an ISO."

My hands come to rest on my hips and I give a thoughtful nod, a smile still pressed to my face. "True, but I do not lack manners, ISO. I attempt to treat you kindly in promise that you may show me kindness in return…" I tilt my head and fix my eyes on her beaten form. "But you will not show me kindness, will you?" with my fingers on her chin, I lift her face to meet my gaze.

"Do you hate me, ISO?" I close the space between us as I ask this. She shudders at me and refuses to meet my eye. Another piece of information is stored. She is uncomfortable with being in close proximity to me. Peculiar. My eyes catch her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to quell the trembling. "Answer me." I make my voice soft for her.

"I should…" a breath shakes out of her. "… but I don't. I have been taught to give up things such as hate and anger. You have taken away all of my friends, Flynn, Sam… You say terrible things, hurt me physically, and go to great lengths to make me unhappy… But, no, I don't hate you."

I look curiously into her face, a frown pulling at my lips. "Then what _do _you feel for me?"

"Pity." She says in a hushed tone.

I release her chin and my hand clenches into a fist. It shoots forward and crashes into her stomach. The ISO sputters and coughs, her body becomes distraught with pain. "How illustrious of you…"

Pity! I will have no one pity me, especially Flynn's rescued pet. I hold her by the face. "You will look at me when I talk to you!" I hold her own face immeasurably close to my own. Her expression shined like one of grievance, as she was unable to look anywhere but into my gaze. I could see it in her eyes, how it pained her to do so. Good.

"You insipid thing… You will come to hate me, scorn my existence, wish me to be derezzed…" I whispered with malicious ferocity against her. "The emotion you will feel for me will surpass any feeling you have ever had for your Creator." Her breath came in short labored gasps. It caused my lips to curl up in a snarl.

"He has your mind. But I claim your heart to be mine; soon it will be emptied out! To be only filled with spite against _me_."

I hit her again and again. All those horrible feelings in my coding. The humiliation, the anger, the disappointment… I let it out on her body. Soon, I come to realize how my fury has caused my body to tremble. I hold a gloved hand to my head, smoothing the hairs as I release my shaking breaths. My calm disposition returns to me and I catch a glance at the ISO's severe condition. She hangs lamely by her chains. Her head is rolled to the side, dirtied with those silent tears again. Her body sways lightly, to and fro, still energized by my attack.

From my mouth, a low chuckle rolls forth. I pat her lightly on her damaged cheek. She attempts to crane herself away from my touch.

"You will come to measure out your existence, not by cycles, but by my temper, ISO. Your happiness and misery rests solely with my mood. Let you hate me for that as well..."

Untroubled from the events, I turn my back on her and knock on the door. Voltas immediately unlocks it and holds the door open. I pause for a moment as he pushes the heavy barrier closed behind me. Before he is able to lock it, I intervene.

"Bring her up to my quarters… For healing."

I march back towards the elevator on my own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

**A/N:: Thank you for the reviews and also those who are silent but Favorite the story or add it to your Alert list.**

**Music:: While writing this I played C.L.U. by Daft Punk frequently. It's deliciously sinister and ripe with energy. Give a listen.**

'_And could I look upon her without compassion, seeing her punishment in the ruin she was, in her profound unfitness for this earth on which she was placed. '- Charles Dickens, Great Expectations_

* * *

Time.

It is everything.

Progress takes time. Reform takes time. Perfection takes time. It is something I have come to embrace, thus I have learned to be a patient program. Though it torments me, I could wait for an eternity. An eternity for Flynn to return. He once told me that hours in the Grid were only minutes in the real world. The question is… How long must I be patient this time? How long now?

They will come. They will come for _her_… and when they do, my army will be waiting for them. I will not fail a second time. Perfection will be obtained. Annihilation of humans will allow programs to spread, to blossom. It will bring the entire _world_ to perfection.

"Why would you do that?"

_The User world_. Violated, wasted… Swirling, churning, smoking beneath their feet. It will be mine. What the Users have touched, what _he_ has touched, have been marred. They must be fixed. Must be righted… and I _will_ take it from beneath his feet. Take away what he holds dear. Take away what matters most.

"Why did you heal me?"

I had said before that I practice great patience. But she… _She_ seems to break it very easily, much like my old friend. Her voice is loud in my ears and causes irritability to rise in me. Can she not appreciate the silence? I do not think she is quite in tune with the Grid as I am. This System in which I have created and tirelessly ruled. The freeways and buildings … the city outside of my window beams gloriously up at me. Cycles, ships, and flyers surge with their light. I can hear it all. In the yawning, gaping emptiness and silence, I can hear the hum… The life of the electricity. Alive. Moving. Constantly. I feel it as though it were a part of me… For some reason she is ignorant and unaware. She does not know how to simply sit still and listen.

Once I returned to my quarters, Voltas brought her up for repair. Her pixels were perfect again. Her hair was glossy and straight once more. Unfortunately, I've realized I cannot leave her too damaged. I am not aware of how much damage an ISO can take before break down. If she were to go offline… I have no knowledge on how to reconstruct her. I was not even sure if ISOs _could_ be reconstructed.

My body pivots away from the window. As I come to stare down at the girl, I feel my face hardening in displeasure. She shies so easily from my sight. It creates bitterness in me. I have allowed her the comfort of my couch again. She lies upon it, with her hands still shackled beneath her. She still conveys no hint of ill temper. Even after I beat her. Ever after I told her I would make her _mine_. Why? Why is she so difficult to break?

"You say you feel no hate for me…" My voice breaks the air between us. "But I can see that you _do_ dislike eye contact with me."

The bottoms of my feet barely make a sound across the glass floor. I crouch to sit beside her body, seating myself on the edge of the furniture. She swiftly moves as far into the couch as to refrain from touching me.

"I usually have to _force_ you into it!" I say in a peevish tone. A hand rises above her, feigning a strike, and her eyes shudder closed in a flinch. A steely grin pulls at me as I lower my hand.

"Why can't you look at me, ISO? Is it because I look like him?" I ask in a humored manner.

The trembling of her lower lip is not missed by me, and thus answers my inquiry. Tiny tears swell in the far corners of her eyes. The sight of them causes me to bite at her, "There is no reason for that." She gives the tiniest of nods and shakes the tears away.

"Besides, you can be rest assured that I'm nothing like him." I state coldly. A daring look forms in her eyes and she finds the courage to finally hold my gaze. She speaks in a voice that is soft and careful,

"You're right. You're _nothing_ like him. Flynn is kind and loving." It seems given the opportunity to talk back to me creates some fervor of excitement for her. My brow rises as a tongue quickly comes to wet her lips before she presses on. "And you… You're empty. It hurts me to see a face I see, normally so full of life, dead and devoid of anything good."

Something begins to uncoil in the pit of my body. My features turn harsh as I lean over her. The shadow from my body plagues her own but the courage has grown stronger. She is still able to maintain eye contact even with my increased anger.

"He was quite young when he rescued you. His face probably greatly resembled my own at the time you two first met and grew attached. How _painful_ it must have been to watch someone you loved grow old."

With satisfaction, I witness indignation flash is those wide eyes.

"Perhaps that is why you cannot stand my stare…" My hand reaches out to her slender jaw. "… And my touch."

My fingers trace over her suit-clad neck, swiping to the side where her bare should lay. Her jaw juts forward, as if she is sickened, and pulls forth a harsh breath through her nose. She truly is defiant today. Her eyes momentarily flutter to my hand before continuing our stare down.

My voice becomes very low as I mock her, "Does it remind you of when _he_ touched you?" I apply pressure to her shoulder, pushing the ISO firmly into the couch. I turn my body so my chest touches her own. She becomes very rigid and I can see that courage of hers waning.

"No!" she snaps back up at me. "He was my mentor, almost like an adopted father. He would never do anything disgusting or perverse like that." Comes her rejection.

A slow chuckle scratches up my throat. "I'm sure…" my eyes remain on hers as my hand trails back over her collarbone, onto her suit, where it goes lower. Down between her breasts, and lower still. Satisfaction spreads through me as I hear the hitching of her breath. But her eyes, they still hold strong to my own. "I'm sure that does not mean he never _fantasized_ about it."

My hand trails to the right and grips harshly at her hip. My face comes nearer to hers. The light from her suit causes her face to glow. I can see now the true color of her eyes. Not like mine, not like Flynn's. But an icy mirror with the edges rimmed in a navy blue.

My own cruel face is reflected in them. My features grow darker, and darker still, as I feel a horrible emotion sweep through my system. Closer I move towards her, and I can finally see that delicious fear swimming in those icy eyes. There is an impulse of violence in me. I can feel it swelling and traveling through my body like poison. I have closed in on her… My own nose touching her slight one. An imagination spreads through my mind of reaching a hand up to strangle her. Rip out her hair. Scratch away the pixels of her face. Hurt her in limitless ways.

These thoughts must transfer into my stare because her body begins to shudder beneath me. The ISO turns her head away, finally unable to bear it. My proximity does not waver as I remain staring at her cringing face. Slowly, I feel the darkness retreating within me, taking that impulse for pain along with it. I breathe in my small victory.

My grip on her protruding hip lessens. "Though why would he?" my voice returns to it's cold, flinty self. I remove myself from the couch and stare down my nose at her. She peeks up at me through the corner of her eye.

"Why would he ever want something like _you_? He has his son. Sam, who is palpable and real... Flynn must prefer him to you. That's why it was they, _together_, going through the portal and not you... No one wants you, virus. No one."

Her eyes squeeze tight in pain. I cannot comprehend why these things hurt her more than physical abuse. Then again, there is no reason for me to understand. The ISO turns her face into the couch to hide her humiliation. I laugh in derision at her before turning and looking out the window. The silence returns, and I close my eyes at its tranquility.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice has regained the strength it had before. She is able to rebuild her walls at an irritatingly quick rate. The sound of her causes my nostrils to flare and my jaw to clench.

My eyes slowly reopen. Her gaze catches my own in the glass. I turn my head and look over my shoulder at her corporal form. She moves her body in a way so she can now sit up right.

"You should know why…" is my answer.

I watch as she nods her small head. "I'm an ISO…" she states in a low voice.

"But you never went out of your way for the other ISOs like you do me." Her tone of voice changes to one of pondering. "Then the again, the others weren't as close and personal with Flynn as I was…" she trails off.

Her eyes trail over the floor then up towards my face. I quit my gaze over my shoulder.

"Do you really hate him that much that you will hurt me like this?" she asks quietly. I attempt to ignore her voice. From the reflection, I can see her standing from the couch. The ISO has the nerve to approach me in a pleading manner.

"You can easily just derez me. Finish me off and you will never have to worry about another ISO again! We'll be completely erased!"

For all I care, she could be speaking to the wall.

"No. Not yet." I answer calmly. She steps intrepidly behind me.

"He won't come for me, CLU. I told him not to." Her fierce whisper travels over my shoulder.

She continues wickedly, "You're waiting for _nothing_."

I turn about to grab at her. She jumps back but I able to snag her by the suit. My hand leaves it to clamp onto her hair. I wrench her scalp mercilessly and kick out her feet. She kneels before me and lets out a cry of pain. I shake her by the head,

"So eager to end your existence, are you!" I seethe.

The muscles in her neck are distraught from the angle it is being pulled. Her face shines up at me. Those small white teeth barred up like an animal's. My mind calculates what she just said. She told Flynn not to return. Rage burns inside me. I pull out my disc and the weapon spins threateningly close to her cheek. Heroism has left her once more and is instead replaced with fright. She is not as ready to be derezzed as she thought.

I sneer down at her. "Only words."

Her eyes follow my disc as it is returned to its holder.

"Even if he never comes back, ISO, I will keep you running. You will be the one to pay for your precious master's misdeeds. Now… _get away from me_." The last sentence is uttered in a guttural, deadly manner.

I release her hair and plant my foot on her chest. My expression changes to one of true disgust as I push her to the floor. Where she lands, she does not move from. Her legs curl up slightly to her chest as her head presses against the glass in dismay. My voice calls out for Voltas. The program promptly enters the room.

"Take her back to her solitude." I order. She stares up at me as I give her one last look of revulsion. "I can't stand the sight of her anymore."

* * *

Clocks turned and I retained from seeing the ISO. Hopefully that after such length of loneliness and lack of communication, her voice box may cease to work. I did not miss her infuriating pride as I reassumed my duties. The outer reaches of the Grid were increasing growth and beauty. The Games of the coliseum were in full motion, but how they did miss their old place of diversion. To placate the programs, I reassembled the End of the Line.

I was not one to appreciate the music played there. It shook about my sensors. My presence reigned in that of Castor's old office, surveying the floor beneath me. My helmet helped to mute the repetitive beat. The place was illuminated with bodies. Red, white, blue. They all mixed shamelessly in this environment. The floor beneath their feet flashed colors in harmony with the instrumental music. Spiritlessly, I witness two programs begin to feud over a Siren. A couple of red Soldiers jump in.

"Amusing, aren't they?"

A soft hand touches my shoulder. Coming to stand at my right was the Entertainment program I enlisted to head the new End of the Line. Merkury; a striking female who gave high competition to the Sirens. Her pink lips smirked at me as her hand slid down my arm. The program proceeded to link her appendage with mine.

"Oh, yes."

Apparently the program misses my bored tone as she gives a short laugh. She runs a hand through her pigment-less tendrils. I eye them curiously. She was one of the few programs that had the unique cluster of codes that forms curled hair. I can only recall seeing it once before on a Soldier program. Haughtily, Merkury raises her chin as she appraises the lower floor.

"The male programs that come here can be so primitive in coding." Her light eyes look up towards me. The black lashes flutter wantonly. "But _you_ are so much more than them, CLU."

My finger touches her chin in an affectionate manner. She so readily accepts my touch that it causes a frown to pull at me. My finger trails up higher and tucks a hair behind her ear. Her chin tucks down and her eyes leer up at me in a feral yet sensual manner. My dark mask hides my frown and thus my distaste. Her body comes closer to mine. The beating lights dance across her features. Casting her in darkness one moment and then brilliant perfection the next.

She shows no defiance, no opposition… I could have her right now. I could probably have her in any manner that I wanted and she would not utter a complaint.

Her hand snakes its way up my chest towards the disengagement button for my helmet. My hand quickly closes around her wrist. I wrench the delicate limb away from me, finally showing my aversion to her advances. Her lips open to reveal a flash of fright. Those lips close as quickly as they had opened and she regains herself. She crosses her arms at me, as if I have insulted the petty thing.

Coyly, I wag my finger at her. Merkury's pursed lips reluctantly spread back into a smile. Appeasing her, I tapped that round chin once more before making my leave. "_Do_ come back, CLU." The flighty program called after me.

Voltas waits ever patiently at the bottom of the steps. I give him reprieve of his duties and walk solitarily towards the elevator. The bodies of the floor separate before me, giving me great leeway towards the exit. The glass doors close and begin a silent descent. The obtrusive music begins to fade away, allowing me to remove my mask. The pixels separate and fall back into the neck of my suit. My thoughts continued to dawdle on the recent happening. Vacantly, I stare at the hand that touched the Entertainment program.

What stirred inside of me to dismiss her? Why was her open readiness to engage so abhorrent to me? I am not able to decipher…

Back at my tower, I come to wandering about my quarters. My eyes keep closing, waiting to feel that connection… The connection to the energy, to the Grid. But it eludes me. I am unable to concentrate. Annoyance festers inside of me and I eventually come to find myself in the basement of the tower.

The door to the cell stands boldly before me. A hesitant hand reaches out to type the code into the lock. My fingers play lightly in the air for a moment before joining together in a fist. I allow my arm to drop back to my side.

I do not know what led me down here. My system must need rebooting. What would draw me to want to be in her company again? She was terribly unyielding and tiresome to talk to. Her misplaced adoration and justification towards Flynn is just as tedious. I must admit… Though she may provoke terrible scorn in me, I find it more unbearable to be in the monochromatic company of programs like Merkury.

Her challenging personality reminded me of the old times with Flynn. Just as irritating, just as provoking… But enjoyably so. Before he decided to turn his back on the objective, that is. Then nothing was enjoyable about him. He merely became an interloper to the System.

I stand outside her door for quite some time. Thinking. Listening. Though there is not much to hear. She is a strangely silent prisoner. A soft, downhearted moan every once in awhile but nothing more. There is no sound to her movement or attempting to pull on her shackles. But, oh, a voice finally creeps from beyond the door.

"Sam…" Ah, there it was.

I imagined her in there. Hanging by her chains, struggling to collect any hope or happiness. Aching in emptiness as she thinks of her master and his beloved son. My senses take note of the despairing tone of voice. I dare not laugh or let my presence be known just outside her cell. I rest with a smug grin and decide to depart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

**A/N:: Thank you for the reviews and also those who are silent but Favorite the story or add it to your Alert list.  
I have come to realize that in the Tron video game there is a character name Mercury. My character is no relation to her.  
Inspiration for Merkury and Voltas' names came from an accessory and a company pertaining to computers.**

'_Yes! you are the ruin-the ruin-the ruin-of me. I have no resources in myself, I have no confidence in myself, I have no government of myself when you are near me or in my thoughts. And you are always in my thoughts now. I have never been quit of you since I first saw you. Oh, that was a wretched day for me! That was a wretched, miserable day' – __**Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend**_

* * *

Darkness plunges into me. Splashes back out into the environment surrounding me. I embrace it like an old friend. There, in front of my crouched form are blue digits. Buzzing softly with feeble electricity, waiting to be touched. But I do not touch it. I never do. After all tasks are addressed, and the time for rebooting overtakes many programs… I am here. Listening. Thinking. I dare not touch the luminous digits and enter. There is something… something not right. Something that does not register within me… and so I spend time and time again outside of her door. Thinking.

She reminds me very much of how Flynn use to be. Growing old has since taken away that original innocence and energy. I could see it in his face whenever I had a chance to see him in that long game of cat and mouse we played. He had changed. Though, I cannot deny that it was mostly because of me. But, yes. He had once been full of hope. Intoxicating all those around him with his charge. I saw it in the ISO as well. But, just like Flynn, I have taken it out of her.

For some reason, a queer memory flashes in me. That of Flynn and I wearing the same clothes. That was long, long ago…

Tentatively, I run my fingers down the length of my arm, tracing the bright strip of light. Seeing instead the leather jacket that I once use to wear. Flynn probably found it humorous for us to dress the same. I remember when I decided to discard them… It was with the revelation that my likeness to my creator was not one to be celebrated, but something to be rejected.

My fists clench convulsively. Yes, we certainly are made in the likeness of our dear Creator. With all of the faulty emotions included.

Emotions. Some are so easy to identify. Then there are those that muddle together into something I cannot distinguish. Like emotions for Flynn… emotions for _her_. Towards other programs, my emotions fizzle and become nonexistent. When I was a young program, this separation stirred distress in me. The Grid feels so very alive in me. A part of me. But the programs that reside within it… I walk in darkness amongst them. Detached. My separate, singular color expressing this isolation. Lost amongst the blue… white… red.

The connection I had with Flynn was a grievously strong one. Whenever we would have our arguments, he would explain to me… Only those that we love and care for can incite such strenuous reactions. I would disagree with this notion, and still do. For at that time, I was beginning to form my detestation for the ISOs. So many things were going wrong. Too many defects, bugs, and virus' running rampant that had not been in the Grid previously. I saw it possible that the formation of the ISOs was attracting the bugs. Unable to be reprogrammed, unable to be controlled, they were a threat to stability.

There was, inarguably, no love or care as I eradicated them.

What made them so special to him? Why would he sacrifice all that we worked for?

Deftly, I rise from my crouched position. In a manner of a few steps, my feet are at her door. My hand rises over the blue numbers. Hesitant, once again. My indecision causes my hand to curl into a fist. No… I step away from the door, my clenched fist opening and coming to pat down my hair as I stare at the floor in vigor.

After every millicycle this happens. I haunt her door. I think. I wait. I approach the door. I fall back. Then I return to my quarters where I reboot and start the millicycle once more… and then I am here again. Thinking about Flynn. Thinking about ISOs. Thinking about her.

I stare sharply at the door once more.

These actions are absurd. Why should _I_, Administrator to the Grid, be shied away from _her_ presence? At any time I should be able to visit her without question.

I step back towards the door and punch in the five-digit code. Soundlessly, the door opens. I refrain from relocking it as I step through the threshold. The heavy metal closes behind me and I am thrown into a more dreary darkness than the one in the hallway. The weak light of the room catches the ISO's form. Her own light is incredibly faint to the point of nonexistence. She does not stir from my entrance. I am not certain if she is rebooting or practicing the ludicrous meditation she had once described. My footsteps take me backwards into the corner, where I resume the position I had in the hallway.

My eyes give regard to her slumped figure. I cannot recall her face in the past. With Flynn, I met many ISOs. But I never met her. How was she able to escape, while the others perished? Did Flynn pick her out amongst the numerous bodies? Or was it simple, fateful, luck?

A thousand cycles.

What did they do with their time? What did they speak about? What secrets did Flynn transmit to her? She refuses to admit to me about it. Keeping all that she learned to herself. It seems that I may never know.

Flynn was gone. Taking his disc, _and_ her disc, that contained all secrets and knowledge.

_He won't come for me, CLU. You're waiting for nothing._

I feel his absence greatly, and how I wished things could have been different. If only he saw things my way. If only he had been more committed to the System… But, he was not. He saw _other things_ to be more important than his own creations.

My eyes trace every line of her body. Every slight slope, arch, and curve. The darkness blurs out her face, preventing me from seeing any detail. An urge swells inside of me, and I despise myself for it. Something makes me want to be closer… but I remain planted in my crouch, angrily grinding my back into the wall, causing my Identity Disc to push harshly against my shoulders.

I do not like this feeling of trepidation. Never in my creation have I felt apprehension about programs, about situations. But here I am now… hunched in a corner, watching an ISO in the darkness. Dread mixes with my yearning and my resolution becomes weaker… and weaker still.

Slightly unsure, I straighten my body into a standing position. Remaining there for a solid moment before I will myself to move once more. I leave my point in the corner and slowly approach her. The closer I get, the more distinguished her facial features become. Finally, I come to stand before her, peering into her face. Her eyes are closed. The black lashes contrasting with her pale skin. My eyes go downwards and watch as my finger idly traces the dim white light of her suit.

I think about what Flynn had said to me, and I wonder if he has ever said the same to her.

Love… Care… Such a terrible, terrible ruse.

A light sigh passes through me as my finger trails higher. Up the curve of her side towards her stretched arms. The small movement stops abruptly in place as I notice her eyes are open. Her eyelids are heavy with fatigue. Those eyes look slowly down at my hand then back up at me. Coldness washes over me and my arm retracts from her, coming to rest instead on my hip.

For what feels like the longest time, the only sound that can be heard is the humming of electricity. She holds my vicious stare in a dead-like fashion. Her pallid lips separate ever so slightly.

"Please."

Her voice is damaged. Very weak indeed. My eyes dart to the ground and then back towards her face. My features are renewed in their hardness. My own voice is stony and unyielding as I address her.

"What are you _begging_ from me?" my distaste rings in through my words.

The heavy eyelids finally overtake her. Softly, they close but she is still conscious. She twitches her head in an attempt to shake it at me. Her lips open once again and move so slightly, it can be hardly said they moved at all.

"I… don't want to… see you."

Speaking drains so much energy from her that I can see her light dimming with every word. But the corners of my mouth twitch upwards as she finishes.

"Why is that, ISO?" I goad her on.

Her head rolls and comes to hang. Effectively hiding her face from my view. I do not correct it.

"It… hurts." Her voice is strangled with pain.

My nose wrinkles in triumph, "What hurts, little virus?"

Something incoherent escapes her and then she falls silent. Her light flickers ever so slightly. I reach out with my hand and push lightly against her stomach. In my own mind, I note the firmness of the touch. Her body swings softly to and fro. I grab some of her bangs between my thumb and forefinger and lift her head. Her slackened jaw gapes at me. I let go of the hair and her head hangs again. Her energy has become so scarce that her system has gone into emergency sleep mode to conserve as much as possible. I try to think of what she may have said. But the mutterings were too incoherent.

Even when my touch is benevolent, she seems to find it unbearable. At times, she shows the same reaction to my mere presence. Why? Why does she find such nonphysical actions painful? Such a strange thing she is…

For my own amusement, I push her lightly by the stomach once more. Her body sways in a mesmerizing dance. The shackles from her wrists jangling in tune.

She once said that it pains her to look into a face that she is use to seeing so full of life. Is that all? A chuckle escapes me at the thought.

My eyes trail up her arms. The points of her wrists touching the shackles have begun slow deterioration. The pixels are all ready starting to break. I have been negligent of her care. With an irritated sigh, I reach up to undo the bonds. Her dead weight drops on top of me and I quickly hook my arms around her. Her head hangs backwards, exposing her pale neck to me. I lean in closer to examine her face. Her lashes are congealed with old tears. Her pale lips cracked from the lack of energy she has been able to consume. The normal glow that exudes her has evaporated.

I lift my hand up to her neck. My middle finger trails lightly on a strained muscle there. I breathe in deeply, and for a moment, become confused. She smells of… something. It's familiar but too far out of my grasp to subject it… The scent creates a rise of comfort in me. A sensation that is warming but not welcome. I do not like this foreign sensation.

Unceremoniously, I drop her body to the floor to escape it. The strange feeling drains away from me as I stare angrily down at her. She does not even have to speak anymore to get a rise out of me. I must remember to keep my distance…

I turn towards the door and exit as quietly as I came. As I open the door, my lowered gaze comes to rest on black suited legs. My eyes trail up the body, following the red suit light, finally coming to stare into Voltas' dark helmet. He says nothing but remains boldly standing before me with his staff gripped tightly beside him. The door hisses as it closes behind me and I am made to press myself against it.

There is silence between us. I wait for him to ask… Ask why I was down here, sitting in the darkened hallway. Ask why I decided to enter the ISO's cell and sit _there_ in darkness. Ask why I had approached her while she was rebooting just so I could _touch_ her.

Revulsion springs up in me as the situation comes into brighter light. There must be something wrong with me.

My muscles have tightened in anxiety. Waiting and waiting for those questions to come. I raise my arms slightly, ready to grab at my Identity Disc. I address the program scathingly, "Is there a situation?"

Ever so slowly, Voltas shakes his head.

"Then, _stand aside_."

For some time, Voltas remains motionless, giving no indication to have heard my order at all. Finally, he tilts his head to the side and complies, turning his large body fully. I quickly move away from the cornered space by the door and into the hallway. Voltas conveys nothing as I stare wearily at him. His body remains stiff as ever. And still, the dreaded questions do not come. A muscle clicks in my jaw.

"Make yourself useful. Get the ISO some energy. She's about to go Offline." Comes my muttered order.

Quickly, I turn from the spot and head down the hall for the elevator with the Security program's gaze burning into my back the entire way.

* * *

It's pulsating. The circuits warming with energy. Electricity traveling to and fro with immeasurable grace and speed. Data and coding coming together in a never-ending systematic dance. And…

My eyes snap open. My hands were pressed firmly against the glass window of my grand room. The muscles in my arms supported my leaning body.

I furrow my brows as I survey the city below me. It had felt as if… There was a disturbance… The feeling had been so fleeting that I was not sure if it had actually occurred or…

Behind me I can hear the door opening. I do not turn to acknowledge the intruder. My thoughts become lost as the sound of footsteps echo in my mind. The program makes itself known.

"The ISO has stabilized since the last millicycle."

Voltas. I say nothing in response. I have rebooted since the last visit to her cell. Things are clearer now. I cannot discern what makes my coding become so muddled when near her. My mind pulls away from my actions and it becomes then that I am just… walking through a fog. This lack of control… It frightens and angers me.

I recall the fear I had when I realized what had just transpired. For the first time, I was afraid that I might be defected. That there was some damage to my coding causing me to act in an abnormal way. I _never_ want to feel that way again. I do not want to see her. I do not want to hear her. And much more, so much more, I do not want to _touch_ the disgusting virus.

"A program stands outside. Head Entertainer program at End of Line, Merkury." Voltas intrudes upon my pondering for a second time.

I breathe heavily with annoyance as I straighten my body and allow my hands to fall from the glass. I was not happy with being disturbed. Less happy that I must deal with the Entertainment program. Hopefully the meeting will not be frivolous.

"Let her in."

* * *

Her physical appearance is perfection. Down to the haughty curve of her delicate eyebrow. Her body glows in feminine glory. Slender legs and arms with dainty hands and feet. Her unique hair mirrors the stark white color of her suit.

She sits at my bar, those long legs crossed, while sipping a glass of liquid energy. She catches me staring from the corner of my eye. A smirk forms as she brings the glass to her lips for a second time. My jaw clenches and I finish making my own drink. "What brings you…" I begin.

The stool beside her remains vacant as I finish preparing my drink. I do not wish to sit with her.

"… to see me?" I inquire.

I lean against the bar, the empty stool creating space between us. She surveys this with vexation and puts her glass down. I believe she has finally realized I have no interest in her. She sucks on her teeth,

"Thank you for the drink." She voices herself in a professional manner but looks disdainfully at the glass. As if she were expecting I give her _something else_.

I share a small smile with myself as I drink from my own glass. I incline my head towards her, requesting that she continue. Merkury rests a pale hand under her sharp jaw,

"Last millicycle, a group of rebel programs sought me out. They were requesting for the lower decks of the club to be used as a meeting station." I raise a brow at her.

"I thought you would like to know." She added in a bored tone.

My fingers drum lightly on the glass of my drink as I think. Many do not know of Castor's betrayal. They still think of him as a neutral program that met his demise by my cruel hands. The programs must still think that End of Line remains outside of my influence. If careful enough, this should play out nicely.

"When they seek you out again, you will comply with their request. Gain their trust. You will also offer services to them. Assist them as much as you can in any task."

Merkury frowns at me, her hand leaving her jaw to drop into her lap.

"I am only an Entertainment program. I am limited."

I nod in agreement and slide my glass next to hers. My fingers lace together as I address her.

"You will be reprogrammed and given a new I.D."

She seems unsure and leers suspiciously at me.

"The new Identity Disc will be able to hold extensive amounts of data, files, and memory. You will be able to offer transfer services by being a Universal Serial Bus. You will help them… and then you'll report back to me." I state.

The program continues to leer at me. "And what about compensation?" she questions.

A picture of the audacious Castor springs in mind at this question. I gaze sternly at her. She is beautiful, and perfect. But her face, I can see it… It is very cold. Lacking, in some way. She has expression and feeling… But it seems very fake. Many times I have seen the same look upon my own face while catching my reflection. Something missing… It just reminds me that the two of us in this room are just hardened programs within a computer. Left to gain dust in Flynn's workshop. I wonder if Merkury could even comprehend such a thing…

"Compensation?" my voice is very low as I move closer, over the stool, towards her.

I watch as her eyes trail downwards as my thigh comes in contact with her knee. Her white hair slides forward, hiding her right eye from view. "What greater pleasure is there, than serving your creator?" she looks up at me through her dark lashes. The blue eye stares fiercely up at me. The color is neither remarkable nor memorable. Unlike the ISO's…

My gloved hand rests on her knee and, just as I expected, her legs slide out from their locked position. I move between them, my hand smoothing up towards her thigh. Black against white. My other hand snakes up into her hair. Her eye closes and I take it as a cue to move in. My lips fasten to hers. Common with merging, memories and emotions are shared between us. A wall of protective coding prevents her from seeing any of my own memories. All I see are _hers_. The sensation is not one I enjoy. She does not feel compatible at all.

Regardless, I move my lips slowly with Merkury's. My hand tightens on her thigh and brings her pelvis against my own. Her arms clamp around me with urgency.

The unfortunate tasks I must undergo as Administrator…


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

**A/N:: Apologies for the long wait. I hope the large chapter makes up for it.**

'_To-day we love what to-morrow we hate; to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what to-morrow we fear.' – __**Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe**_

* * *

The crowd roared. United in a single feeling that rippled through the air.

Excitement.

Lights flashed. Scenery shifted. Thousands of programs moved about like a vast sea. Two programs stood at the center of the arena. Glass encased their fighting field.

"FINAL MATCH. PROGRAM NOVA AGAINST PROGRAM VOLTAS."

The red program lifted his arm, holding his black staff over his head. The crowd roared once more and chanted his name. The opposite program stood crouched with his disc in hand, all ready engaged in his fighting stance. The soft blue light from his suit blared with his determination. A whistle rang out signaling for the match to commence. Voltas lowered his arm and slowly withdrew his disc.

The next sequence happened very quickly. At the same time, both programs threw their weapons. Voltas' veered to the far right while program Nova's whirled straight for its target. In the closest of calls, Voltas was able to twist his body away from the deadly object. As he turned, his black staff twirled in his hands, the tip of it catching program Nova's disc. Happening at the same time, Voltas' own disc had hit the wall and was ricocheting back towards its owner.

Coming down from his twist, Voltas used his staff to whip program Nova's disc back at him. He quickly lifted the opposite side of his staff to catch his own blaring disc and repeated the tossing movement.

Two deadly projectiles now headed for Nova. The blue program turned and twisted, successfully dodging his own disc. His hand reached out and grabbed it before it past him. He then bent his body in a back flip as Voltas' disc came following. The disc skimmed his helmet, causing pixels to break away. The disc passed over him and the program straightened out his body.

Danger was not dormant though. Voltas had been running forwards, following the trail of his disc. Nova lifted his arm to defend himself but it was too late. Voltas swung his staff and the opposite program was split in half. Pixels cascaded over the glass floor and the crowd cheered as Voltas stood over Nova's convulsing torso. His disc ricocheted once more. Nonchalantly, the Security program lifted a hand and caught the disc as it zipped by, putting it back in its holder.

The arena was voicing their judgment, demanding more violence. Abiding the chanting programs, Voltas twirled his staff about in a display of his finesse, before swinging it heavily downwards towards Nova's head. Gruesomely, Nova's face collapsed inward before falling apart into thousands of cubes. The program was effectively derezzed.

"WINNER. PROGRAM VOLTAS." The disembodied voice announced.

From the upper deck of my ship, I watched with vague interest. I had thought that the Games would be an enjoyable reprieve. It seemed to be ineffective as my thoughts still raced about. I pursed my lips as I recalled the merging I had with Merkury less than a millicycle ago. After it was done, I bid her to leave and took solace in my Rebooting Chamber. I had gone through my disc and effectively swiped away any file transfers that had transpired. The least I needed was Merkury's thoughts and memories mingling with my own.

The attention was enough for her to obey my orders. I had her primary function reprogrammed and she was suited with a new I.D. She agreed to work with me against the rebel programs. So now, all there was to do was wait…

The arena began to shift in preparation for the lightcycle games and I came to think about the ISO. Being trapped in her four-walled prison as I enjoyed the fruits of pointless entertainment. Though… what was all of this, but a larger prison? It certainly does feel that way, but perhaps only to me. Other programs do not appear driven to reach the outside world as I am. But, that is not their fault, is it? They are not aware of it as much as I. The only programs that Flynn talked to about the outside world were Tron and myself. Now it was only me…

A picture of the ISO lying in her comfortless cell jumped into mind.

Well, I suppose that is not true, is it? Now it was the ISO and I who remained that shared knowledge of the outside world. Only the ISO and I who remained that shared personal memories of our Creator.

My lips purse together with the bitter revelation.

The door to the deck slides open. The smart clicking of glass against glass tells me it is Voltas with his staff. The program comes to stand by my side. I continue surveying the arena as I address him.

"Very good." Comes my hallow congratulations. A low mechanical hum spurs from Voltas' black helmet in reaction.

The lightcycle games have commenced but I have grown weary of the entertainment. The intensity and sound of the arena is causing me great irritation. The yearning for solitude pulls at me. I request Voltas to pilot the ship back to the tower and the program silently complies.

The large craft retracts itself from the Gaming Grid and begins its flight towards the epicenter of the city. My eyes graze over the buildings, the streets, the cycles, and the programs with disinterest. That is, until, a familiar edifice catches my attention. I crane my neck to stare down at the large red letters. FLYNN'S ARCADE quickly falls from view.

I slump back into my chair as I recall the old structure. Many times Tron and I would go there. At the sight of the portal being opened, we knew where we were needed. Flynn's Arcade to meet the Creator. I had once asked him why he would make such a useless structure. Programs would never use it and found difficulty seeing the point of it. Computer programs playing 'video games', as he once called it. I am sure he found it humorous.

Flynn said that on the other side, the Arcade was where he would integrate himself into the System. He found it fitting for the receiving side to be just the same. Often I imagined stepping through the portal and finding myself in that Arcade. Then venturing out into the vast and abstract kingdom that is the User World. And to think, how close I was to achieving that very thing…

The tips of my fingers begin to penetrate through my armrests.

* * *

The return to my domicile does not occur quickly enough. At arrival, I promptly head for my quarters. Just as I am about to pass through my door, I stop abruptly, turning to stare viciously at Voltas whom was tailing me. He halts, allowing me to stare into the infuriatingly vacant helmet. Much like all the other programs, I have grown tired of his continuous presence.

"Proceed down to Storage and Containment and retrieve the ISO's I.D. for me. Once delivered, return out here… I do not want to be disturbed." My voice comes to a stinging edge with the last sentence.

The program hesitates for a moment before nodding and turning on spot. My eyes remain on him until he disappears from the hallway. I exhale sharply through my nose with annoyance before continuing on towards my destination. At my approaching step, the door to my quarters slides open. Briskly, I carry on past the bar and lounging area, while casting a fleeting glance towards the city out of my grand window.

The door to my Rebooting Chamber slides open for me. My body halts in the doorway as my eyes rest upon the serene black bed. My thoughts are bombarded with images of the merging that occurred with Merkury. My back teeth grind forcefully against one another. I step into the room, allowing the door to slide shut behind me. Begrudgingly, I seat myself at the foot of the bed, staring strictly at the floor between my feet.

My thoughts swirl around my antipathy for Merkury. She is beautiful. She is abiding. She is perfect. For reasons unfathomable, I cannot stand her. Which, ironically, may be the very driving force behind her relentless pining. When I was a young program I came to realize that my compatibility with others was very limited. I would describe the feeling to Flynn… The isolation would cause a deep eating-away sensation in my abdomen. Flynn identified that feeling to be loneliness.

Over the cycles, the feeling has grown. Whenever I feel its presence I am immediately thrown into anger. At times, I feel as if it has an embodiment of its own. Seeping out of me like fluid and encasing me. But, why? I do not know. Irrefutably, I do yearn for companionship. Part of me knows that I cannot find it with any existing program, for the only time I ever _did_ feel true companionship was with… Flynn. All else seems to fall short. All else seems empty… seems pointless…

The soft sound of a door sliding reaches my ears. My eyes trail slightly to the left as I hear footsteps entering my quarters. They pause, and then start up again. A door slides once more and the footsteps become silenced. Slowly, I stand from my bed and come close to the wall. Listening intently for any intruding sounds. Listening intently to be sure that I was alone.

I was.

I exit my Rebooting Chamber and walk into the lounging area. There, at the end of the bar, lays the delivered object. In swift steps, I am able to pick it up. Leisurely, I turn over the black disc in my hands. My finger traces the soft blue strip of light. My body moves backwards and comes to sit on one of the stools. My elbows on the bar, I hold the I.D. before me.

The ISO's Identity Disc. Well, not her original Identity Disc. Just the substitute I was required to supply her with.

As I activate the disc, the holographic reconstruction of the ISO's head appears. Blankly, I stare at it before deftly perusing through her files.

The only thing this new disc was good for was accessing her basic files and coding. All previous files, memory, and data are nonexistent. They can only be viewed through her original. The disc was basically empty and worthless for what I desired, but it allowed me to survey her condition without physically seeing her. I _was_ still wary of her presence. Something strange occurs within me when near her, and I do not enjoy it.

I pull up her core memory filing. It's miniscule, containing only events she has experienced while in Containment. It is millicycle after millicycle of nothingness. Each file is of the same memory. Her hanging there in the cell left to deteriorate in darkness. _File 1596_ is different and all too familiar to me. At opening it, the hologram image relays to me the event in a third person point of view. There she is, hanging from her binds, and there I am…

My muscles constrict with unease as I watch my hologram-self approach the ISO. There, in the darkness, I dared to touch her. It was not intimate. It was simply following the trail of her side with the tip of my finger. Far from intimate and yet… The whole scene appears grossly inappropriate.

The corners of my lips twitch and I quickly close the mortifying memory. I pull up the next file. At this time, she is free from her bonds… but she remains motionless on the floor. I squint with curiosity at the memory. She has the ability to now move around the cell but she chooses to be inactive. Seemingly deciding to be a useless shell of coding slumped against the wall. I flip through the remaining memories and they are repetitive. Besides on the scarce moments when Voltas entered to deliver liquid energy, she has simply chosen to sit against the wall. Nothing more.

Has she malfunctioned?

Opening her Operating System reveals nothing, as far as I could tell. There is no damaged coding. Logically, she should be fully operational. I frown deeply as I stare at the slowly turning double-helix coding structure. I cannot perceive the cause for the abnormal behavior. I close the Operating System and pull up her core memory filing once more. I scroll through and open her last memory; _File 2700_.

There she is, in the same position, carelessly hunched against the wall with her legs sprawled out. Her eyes are closed. Her face, serene. The light from her suit seems to pulsate in sequence with the light from the cell. The door slides open and Voltas emerges. The intimidating program stands over her, his red suit light washing onto her form. She does not seem to notice or care. Using his staff, the program nudges her. The ISO falls over onto her side with dead weight, allowing access to her disc. Perceiving her to be rebooting, Voltas crouches down to disengage the disc from its holster.

Suddenly, her eyes are open. Her legs lift up and encase around Voltas' neck. Before the program can react, she twists her body causing Voltas to flip over and land harshly on the ground. She sprints up as Voltas reaches for his staff. He is not quick enough and she has all ready past through the threshold. The ISO grins triumphantly and closes the door, locking the new prisoner in his cell.

The memory file ends and my fists clench around the disc in rage. I am about to jump out of my seat, when there is suddenly a buzzing disc at my neck. The orange light reveals to me that it's my own disc, pulled off its holster without me knowing. The intruder whispers in my ear, but I all ready know who it is.

"Drop it." the ISO orders.

Slowly, I put her disc down onto the bar. A hand snakes around me and snatches it from view. I yield to her and hold my hands upwards. She allows me to turn around on my seat to face her. My own disc remains dangerously close to my neck as she returns her disc to its holder. Her face is blank as she stares at me. Her eyes are hard and cold. The little virus is an efficient warrior after all.

"Such a senseless, rash program you are…" I hiss maliciously.

Her face remains passive against my insult.

"With you gone, the System will be able to go back to its original state. The way it _should_ be." she declares.

"With me _gone_… And how do you suppose this will pan out for you? Will you simply derez me and find it possible to walk the Grid? There are plenty of Basics would revel in the opportunity to bring the end to the last ISO, not to mention my Black Guards." I threaten.

A flicker of hesitation shows through her face. As I had expected, she was not one to think a plan all the way through.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me!" she retorted. "As long as you're destroyed, the rebel programs will have a chance to fight back and regain the System!"

"Then, do it." I order. "Cease my existence, delete me, cause deresolution."

She presses her pale lips together and stares suspiciously at me.

"You're not afraid of deresolution?" she asks.

"Fear of deletion requires a fear of losing something. I… have nothing to lose, virus." comes my solemn answer.

An expression of confusion springs up in her features. She frowns at me.

"It's funny… Your appearance always alarms me. You have all the physical qualities he does. At times, I feel as though I can almost pretend that you are him. That you won't hurt me, or hate me, and that none of this ever really happened. _Almost_ pretend, because when I look closer-"

The ISO leans forward and stares sternly into my eyes.

"-I can see on the inside, you are simply not… there."

My teeth clamp together tightly as I stare into her visage.

"I wonder how effortless it will be for you to derez the mirror image of your Creator." I whisper.

Her upper lip twitches ever so slightly. Those blue eyes tear away from my own and begin to track the features of my face. She leans back away from me and holds the disc at her shoulder, ready to strike.

"Don't worry, CLU. I think I will find it _very_ easy."

Her arm strikes forward to deliver the blow. My hand reaches out and snatches her wrist, pulling her forcefully downward. I am able to twist out of my seat just as she falls forward into the bar, her forehead colliding with the hard glass. Not wasting a moment, I rip her disc from its holder. She quickly recovers and spins around at me, taking up a fighting stance. Her cheeks are tinted with frustration and embarrassment at the fumble.

"Think again." I laugh derisively at her.

I grasp the foreign disc tightly in my right hand. She yells as she lunges at me and engages in close range combat. Her first swing is aimed at my abdomen. I dodge and she goes to kick out my legs. I thrust my arm down at her, forcing her to back flip to safety. She comes at me again, swinging at my face. Our two discs meet, effectively preventing her strike. Her knee comes up and connects with my mid-section. A harsh coughing breath bursts from me and I drop the blue-lighted disc. I stare wide-eyed at the item at it twirls on the glass before falling flat. I look up in time to see the ISO thrusting her arm at me once more.

I bend sideways and catch her arm as it goes past. I pull her towards me and spin her around. Clamping her body harshly against my own and forcing the disc in her hand towards her face. She cranes her neck as far as can. The muscles in her arm are beginning to shake violently in an attempt to hold back. I chuckle against her dark hair.

"You fight for the wrong side, ISO. No one is going to save you. Neither Flynn nor his son. They have left you, _abandoned_ you. Does that not seem cruel? Does that not show, that they never really loved you?"

She lets loose a cry of anguish at my words. Abruptly, her head dips down and before I have time to register, her head comes back up with violent force. I release her in my pain and disorientation. She sprints from me. I gnash my teeth and pick up the fallen disc before chasing after her. She runs at the grand window and jumps up. Her left foot planting itself against the glass and pushing off. I skid to a halt as she spins at me, her right foot aiming for the side of my head. Just in time, I jump backwards, feeling the air from the missed strike push against my face. She lands and my leg snaps up to collide with the middle of her back. The force of it tosses her against the window. Her forehead, once again, having the misfortune of colliding against hard glass.

With marked speed, I cover her body with my own, preventing her from turning. I grab her right wrist and smash her hand against the glass until she drops the disc. It clatters to the floor and I kick it away. She yells in protest as I release her wrist to grab her by the hair. I push harshly against her body, not allowing her any movement. Her eyes squeeze shut at the pain and her white teeth clamp tightly together as her cheek is pushed against the window. I press the disc vertically against her spine.

"Why not try to derez me now? _I dare you_." I hiss vehemently.

A rage-filled and frustrated growl rips between her barred teeth. My gloved fingers dig deeper into her scalp. It angers me. It angers me endlessly that she has the sheer gal to threaten to take away _my_ life force. This deplorable, inferior cluster of coding dares to defy me. Me, Administrator to the Grid.

"Wretched-" I pull back her head and strike the side of it forcefully back into the glass. "-useless-" I do it again. "-ISO!" And again.

She continues to bare her teeth at me and to push her muscles against mine. It is futile. The disc digs deeper into her back and I can see how she hates it. I can see how she cannot stand being helpless to me.

"Still being Flynn's little martyr?" I whisper fervidly against her cheek.

I stare fiercely out the window, beholding all my work on the grand System. I was able to polish and refine it. I was able to build it to its peak. I was able to bring it to its maximum potential. I was able to show that programs do not need Users for survival or guidance. What has she done? What accomplishments has she to claim for?

"I have stood against Users. I have stood against Flynn. The creator of all and everything we physically know… And I have the privilege of claiming victory against this man. And you think _you_ can stand against me? A single ISO to bring down all that I have ever worked for?"

I turn my head, my nose pushing back her dark hair to whisper in her ear,

"You, virus, you are nothing." I utter viciously.

Something wet touches my face, causing me to flinch and immediately pull my head away from hers. Tears have formed a thin track down her cheek. Her blue eye stares passionately at me through its corner. The tears blurring and darkening its natural color. I can see the fury in her. The misery. I wish to fill her to the brim with nothing else. I can feel that unforgiving darkness spilling from me. Spilling out all those grotesque User emotions. Rage, hate, malice, jealousy, sorrow, resentment, and bitterness. Swirling so toxically together.

I pull her head back and begin to batter the window with the side of her face. I can hear nothing but the sound of the impacts and a strange rushing sound in my ears. I want to cause her unending pain. I want her to hurt forever. I want her to wish she had never came into existence. I want the vision of her savior to burn before her eyes, leaving her with _nothing_, nothing but a yawning gaping emptiness… Just like me.

In my frenzy, I toss away the blue-lighted disc to grab her with both arms. I turn her about and her hands come up to scratch my face. My system is surging with so much raw energy, that I do not even compute the pain. I hold her wrists and pull her arms to cross against her chest. The left side of her face is ruddy and heavily damaged. Her left eye has lost pixelation. Only her right eye is able to function as it stares up at me, still bubbling with wrath. Those burning tears still leaking over her black lashes. She breathes heavily against me with her anger.

"Have you come to hate me yet, virus?" I question.

Her jaw clamps tight and I can see the moral struggle beneath her features. "No." she finally answers.

"That will change." I nod in assurance.

I will commit myself to making her fall. My darkness will spread to her like an infection. She will see existence how _I_ see existence. She will break every moral that she knows.

"When you have come to compute that all which you love and have been taught is nothing but a lie… That is when you'll hate me. That is when you'll concede your heart to me."

Her eyes squeeze shut and she shakes against my body. More tears stream down her damaged face from my words. Her shuddering breath comes in contact with my lips. My senses are very aware of my body pushed against hers. My hips against her lower abdomen. Her small hips being pressed by my right thigh. The only thing separating our chests being her crossed arms. That unwelcome sensation of comfort leaks forth once more, mixed with something else. I lean in closer towards her and the orange circuits of my suit become blaring. My fingers dig deeply into her wrists as an aching feeling pulls at my core. My nose pushes against her pale, wet cheek. The warm sensation causes me to close my eyes.

"Please, no! What are you doing?" she cries. I pull my head away to see the panicked expression upon her face. All previous rage wiped from her visage.

"What I wish!" I snap back, angered by her vocal interruption.

She attempts to shrink herself as best she can, a feeble attempt to alleviate the proximity between us. She is trembling violently now out of fear, especially her legs. I push my thigh harsher against her hips to still the movement, my knee coming to press between her legs. This action seems to panic her further. Her good eye stares wildly up at me with alarm and confusion.

"But I'm an ISO." She whispers.

I feel that sensation of comfort and horrible aching vacate my system in a single sweep as she says this. I am left feeling cold and hardened. I stare viciously down at her with disgust before tossing her to the floor away from me. My hand clamps down on my head to smooth back my hair as I breathe heavily through my nose.

The virus is right. She is an Isomorphic Algorithm. They are the reason why the System fell into disarray. The sole reason why separation grew between Flynn and I. The cause behind his desertion to create the perfect System.

She staggers to get up from the ground. I kick her brutally in the stomach causing her to fall to her side. She coughs and clutches at her abdomen as she curls into a ball. Slowly, I pick up the discarded discs from the ground. Return mine to its holder on my back, and holding hers firmly in my right hand. The virus peeks up at me from her submissive position on the floor. My foot kicks out at her face. She cries in pain as pixels fall from her damaged eye.

"Don't look at me!" I order.

"Why are you being so cruel to me?" comes her agonized voice. "I've never done anything to you."

I crouch over her. The virus hides her face from me and curls into a tighter ball.

"You threaten the very _meaning_ of my existence. To create perfection. You are an insult to everything Flynn and I created. A hideous blemish upon a beautiful piece of work. What more reasons do I need to _detest_ you?" I snarl.

One of her gloved hands comes to tangle itself in her hair as the other forms a fist that pounds against the floor in frustration. "My only fault towards you was that I was born! I have done _nothing_!"

I push out a condescending laugh towards her. An arm lowers itself so she may glare up at me.

"It's true!" she declares. "I have done nothing while you have destroyed all of my friends. You seek to destroy my mentor and his son, who has also done nothing to you!"

I stare coldly down at her, my lips set in a thin line. "I follow my primary programming. I seek only perfection. Isomorphic Algorithms are not perfect and, as I came to realize, Users are not perfect. Neither belongs in the System. That's why I eradicated your precious _friends_-" I say the word with disdain "-That's why I sought to destroy Flynn."

"Why destroy the man who brought you into being? The man who cared enough to bring you into existence?"

My brows immediately come together and I begin to feel myself shaking.

"The man who cared?" I repeat to her softly.

"Kevin Flynn does not _care_ for programs!" I shout, "We were built as an experiment to be contained and closed off from other systems."

"That's not true! He loved us all like we were his children!"

Abruptly, I grab down at her. She screams in surprise and holds tight to my arms. I shake her violently against the floor.

"We are programs within a computer in a _basement_, ISO! We were not _made_ because Flynn sought companions. We were made to be analyzed and studied. How can you not compute? How can _no one_ compute? We are his little project, nothing more."

I shake her once more. The ISO stares wide-eyed at me, shocked at my assertion. For a moment, I am led to believe that I have gotten through to her, that she may finally comprehend who her Creator _really_ is. But her gaping mouth snaps shut and her eye trails curiously around my face.

"You're not as cold as you want me to believe." I lift an eyebrow at her whispering.

"You loved him once, I know you did." My face blanks itself of expression as I feel something hot and violent coursing through my system. She sees this but dares to push on,

"You loved him like how I love him, and you can't stand it!"

"Be quiet." I hiss dangerously, my fingers clutching tighter into her shoulders.

"You only hate him because you think he betrayed you!"

"HE DID BETRAY ME!" I bellow.

I feel that violence burst inside of me and I grab hold of her throat. I squeeze tighter and tighter, feeling the supply skin beneath my fingers succumbing to my grip. She scratches wildly at my arm.

"AND CAN YOU GUESS WHO HE BETRAYED ME FOR?" my light is surging so dangerously that it has engulfed both of our bodies. Her blue eye is no longer blue but a massive reflection of my orange glow. Tears swim on the rim and even they are my color.

"FOR YOU!"

He left me for _them_. For her. She took him away. Filled his brain with her disease.

My hand clenches tighter and I just want to break it. I just want to break that neck. I feel hate like I have never felt before. Monstrous, scalding, and heavy. I wish to annihilate her. My arm reaches back and pulls out my disc.

"Your disgusting existence is finally coming to an end." I whisper fiercely.

Her eye stares up at the blaring orange disc as I lift my arm to strike.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

_'She says-it helps with the lights out  
__Her rapid glow, is like Braille to the night  
__She swears—I'm a slave to the detail  
__But if your life is such a big joke  
__Why should I care?'_ **_– Interpol_**

* * *

_Memory File 0067_

Flynn and I sit together, mapping out the construction of Sectors 5 and 6. Young and new, just like myself, the city has just begun. I can feel it… within me. A small hiccup of a pulse. It's there. It's alive. It's ready to grow and blossom into the beautiful perfection that it's destined to become. All because of the User beside me. The Creator. Kevin Flynn.

I stare intently at the man. His lips are moving, but no sound comes out. He seems to be mouthing words to himself as he looks over the prints, deep in his own thoughts. I move my lips as well. Opening and closing my mouth as he does, but become unsatisfied as I realize it does not affect the rate of my thoughts.

I am humbled. Always humbled… to appear a mirror to his excellence. Everything. Everything the same down to the way we are dressed. He knows all. For every question I have, he can supply an answer to. It's… comforting to be in the presence of someone who is so sure… about _everything_.

"Do you truly believe it will make a difference?" I ask in a soft voice, careful to interrupt him.

He understands of what I ask and looks up from our work. He surveys the environment around us. The premature buildings and the newly set freeway. In the distance, the Sea of Simulation sways deeply in its own rhythm. The Outlands, a place I find foreboding, is on the horizon. Jagged and unruly. He surveys it all and takes in a deep breath, refreshed at the sight.

"Man, CLU… You have no idea."

He turns his head towards me. Those blue eyes set themselves on my own. Something shines within them and his lips pull into a smile. This action, I recognize it as one of kindness. I duplicate it, mirroring the action perfectly. Every small movement of muscle memorized. I find the sensation peculiar and awkward on my face. Quickly, I erase it. Flynn sees this all and gives a hearty laugh. There is still so much for me to learn about Users.

"I understand it's hard for you to conceive. I mean, the System is all you _know_." He expends his arm, indicating our surroundings.

"But to the people _out there_…" He points his finger to the sky. "The mere thought of any of this, man, is just… incredible." His eyes trail away from me. His teeth come to bite over his bottom lip in a strange grin. As he isn't looking, I test this action out as well. I do not comprehend the significance. By the time Flynn's attention is back on me, my face is blank once again.

"What we're doing is important. What we're doing will change it all!"

When he talks, his hands wave around. I do not comprehend the significance of this either, but it interests me endlessly. All of his mannerisms do. They are very peculiar, but delightfully so. Frequently, I attempt to mimic them without him noticing. Whenever he catches me, he always laughs. I do not know why.

"But before any of them can see this," Flynn points up at the sky and then towards me in a stern manner. "It has to be up and beyond! I don't want them to be simply interested in what I'm working on; I want them to be _blown away_! The potential for what we're making, CLU, is-is unbelievable! For it to get there, it needs to be flawless. It needs to be absolutely perfect!"

I listen intently as he speaks and I feel a surge of energy course through me. My system feels electrified and excited as he addresses the promise that the Grid holds. I feel it too. The promise. The greatness. Ready to be created. What he said was absolutely true. It was logical. In order for the System to create the dramatic cultural change that Flynn aspired to do, it would need to be without error. He cannot do this without me.

Something swells within my chest at the thought. I am able to identify the emotion as Pride. I am to aid in his ultimate aspiration. It strengthens me. Drives me to accomplish my main programming. I do it for Flynn.

"Speaking of the Outside World… 'bout time I got back."

He gives a long sigh and hands over the schematics to me. I stare blankly at them before frowning up at him.

"There is too much to do. It has not even been a full cycle."

In honesty, I always hated to see him go. Things were easier while he was around. The Grid ran exceedingly smoother with his guidance. There was still so much to create and program, how was I to do it all on my own until he returned?

Flynn shakes his head at me, his fingers resting on his hips.

"Just like here, I have responsibilities out there as well." He answers me.

My brows rest heavily upon my eyes as I stare at him. I understand full well of his responsibilities, but it still did not change my emotions towards it. Flynn frowns slightly at me in a confused manner. He reaches out and slings an arm around me, leading me as we began to walk.

"I'll be back, man. I promise. Before you know it."

Promises. This is a User concept that still confuses me. When Flynn says _promise_, it means he will abide to his words. But, why would one _not_ do so? When I declare I will do something, I do it. I cannot comprehend anything but. Nonetheless, I nod at him. The gesture is obviously another one of kindness. Flynn uses the word _promise_ when he wants to reassure me, especially when I am being impatient.

I peer at him in a sideways glance and replicate his smile. He laughs again and pats me on the back. Touch is another foreign action. Small touches such as the pat on the back or the gripping of my shoulder. Users do it to create connection between one another. An act of friendliness. This is a foreign mannerism that I do not mind, and embrace it gladly when given.

"You programs, dude, are becoming more and more like me as the cycles pass. Imagine it, becoming so humanoid that the difference between a program and a User would be nearly indistinguishable… Now, _that_ would be something."

The prospect overwhelms me and fills me with fear. In physical qualities, I may take the likeness of a User, but to _operate_ as one… I am unable to grasp the concept. It does not seem favorable.

"Anyways," Flynn's voice pulls me from my overloaded thoughts.

"Make sure to go over those plans with Tron." He pulls away from me and leans down, his fingers touching the ground beneath him. He stands and rubs his fingers together, "Still needs a bit refining." He murmurs.

Flynn looks towards me and claps me on the side of the arm. "Be good, man. See you soon."

"I will await your return." I reply quietly.

Flynn shoots another grin before grasping his light cycle baton. In a matter of moments, he is gone from sight. I am left behind in the vacant freeway. It is for me to design to my own liking. It is in my hands to mold to my liking. Its freshness is tangible. I am submerged in the silence of its birth. I hang my head, my eyes glaring up from beneath my lashes. My barren surroundings feel strangely sinister and the emptiness is devastating. The half built structures are gray skeletons that hang over me.

A single word seems to rise from beneath my feet and engulf the air around me.

I am… alone.

The feeling resonates strongly within my system. I wish for it to go away.

* * *

"Your disgusting existence is finally coming to an end." I whisper fiercely.

Her eye stares up at the blaring orange disc as I lift my arm to strike.

"CLU?"

My head snaps up to see Merkury standing by the bar. The expression on her face is one of horror. A feminine hand cups around her pink mouth as she stares at the scene. The ISO continues to gag and sputter beneath me.

My gaze falls away to catch my reflection in the window. My features were very harsh and warped from my orange glow. Scratch marks trailed down my face from my forehead to my upper lip. My normally immaculate hair was in disarray, falling in strands over my eyes. Shame washes away my anger as I take in my appearance. I looked away, down at the ISO. A long breath escaped me and I allowed my arm to lower. Her gaze penetrates me. Holds me. Those thin fingers continue to try and pry my hand from her throat.

I could feel the slow ooze of time. The thundering within my system disappearing to a soft lull, mixing with the horrible silence within the room.

I release the ISO and she gulps in the unrestrained air. She delicately grips her throat and rolls to the side away from me. My lips press together as I return my disc to its holder. As I stand, I pull the ISO up with me. My fingers dig into her upper arm as I march her over to my Rebooting Chamber, picking up her discarded Identity Disc on the way. She attempts to dig her feet into the floor but I simply drag her more forcefully. Roughly, I shove her into the room. The ISO stumbles and turns, staring wildly at me. Her expression shows of confusion and anger.

We stare at one another until the door slides shut and I promptly lock it. My presence continues to loom in front of the door as I attempt to fix my hair and overall appearance. I hook her disc onto my back, on top of my own I. D.

"CLU… CLU, who is she?"

The sharp voice demands me to turn about towards the bar. Merkury approaches me and I stare blankly at her. I am successful in hiding my shame and embarrassment. Normal programs never see me thrown into deep emotion. On rare occasions, I slip up and am able to brush it off. Such as when Jarvis and the group of Black Guards saw my control slip away at Flynn's hideout. A simple laugh after the matter and that was all.

But this was serious. This could not be laughed off. I was humiliated to be seen in such a way, especially by Merkury. My hatred for her grew exponentially and wished nothing more than her to depart.

"CLU?"

"None of your concern." Comes my strict voice.

Concern is etched into the pixels of her face as she reaches for me. Those long fingers rise towards my damaged face. My hand shoots up to clasp around her wrist, halting her action. How I do not wish for her to touch me, or even gaze upon me with those bland eyes.

"Oh, but she has hurt you!" she exclaims.

My hand slips down to hold her by the elbow. I lead us away from my Rebooting Chamber and towards the entrance door.

"I have a request for you."

Whatever concern she may have had is deleted from her. The white program's face becomes stern and stoic, hauntingly beautiful. She gives a begrudged nod.

"Summon my Black Guards. Tell them Voltas requires assistance in Storage and Containment, Block A."

The door slides open and I softly push her by the back and into the hallway. A pale hand rests on her slender hip while those eyes look me up and down.

"There is a reason I came… News from the rebels."

I nod in understanding. "It will have to wait."

She continues to stand there. Perhaps waiting for me to reach out and tap her affectionately on the chin. I do not move from the door. I stare coldly at her and she matches me. Maybe she has begun to compute the game I play. Finally, her eyes trail away from me to drag idly on the floor.

"I will seek you out." I lift a hand to push a button on the wall. The door slides shut in soft _'whoosh' _and locks itself.

* * *

My shadow reigns over her body as I stand in the doorway. She sits on the floor with her back against the end of the bed. My black-gloved hands form into fists as she looks up at me. That eye. That eye which holds inexplicably more… something… then the whole lot of nothing that resides in Merkury's.

I look at her and cannot help but frown at the pathetic virus. She is nothing. How can she throw me into such anger and passion? She is _nothing_. Yet I lose myself too easily. My thoughts are eaten away. My actions cast into ungoverned chaos. My system possessed by that terrible but familiar feeling of wrath.

How does this happen? How does this pathetic program before me affect me so greatly?

That eye. That eye is filled with an emotion I can identify.

"You're afraid of me." I observe.

That eye squints up as she is trying to decide how to perceive me.

"The spectrum of emotions that you possess is frighteningly vast… I do not think Flynn has ever made another program like you." She whispers.

I take a single step into the room, allowing the automatic door to slide shut behind me. It sweeps away any strong light with it. With a clap of my hands, the Rebooting Chamber could become illuminated in an astounded brightness. But I don't do it… I allow the darkness to hide us, cover us. For what reasons? I do not know…

Our faces glow from our incandescent suits. The feeble light from her body catches in her eye. Capturing it like a trap and reflecting a tone darker than normal.

"Elaborate." I order.

Her gaze travels down. She bends her legs, allowing herself to prop her elbows on her knees.

"You're different than the others…" a hand reaches up to assess the damage of her lost eye. The ISO winces as he nimble fingers touch the damaged skin.

"You're able to…" for a moment she struggles to find the right words. A small pixel falls from the arch of her brow and onto her palm. The opposite hand picks it up. She holds it between her thumb and forefinger and inspects it curiously with her good eye. "…express _feelings_ more than they do. It's as if your emotions operate on the same level as… a User instead of a program."

That eye gazes cautiously up at me through black lashes. I can feel it penetrating through my outer skin, attempting to identify what I really am.

"I'm far from a User." I whisper scathingly.

She simply stares up at me and finally answers in a hallowed voice,

"You're right… You're just something horrible caught in-between."

I press my lips together in an angry response. My memory recalls what Flynn said to me all those cycles ago. Was I made to operate this way? Did Flynn purposely create me this way so as to make me incapable of connecting with other programs? To be constantly lonely? I remember how I would mimic Flynn's mannerisms; eager to be just like him. How things have changed…

My face pulls into Flynn's smile. The familiar sensation of the oddity and how misplaced it feels creates nostalgia to seep nastily into my system. The ISO's mouth opens in shock and then I can see the anger burning in her eye.

"Don't do that!" she snaps loudly at me.

"Do what?" I ask softly. She clenches her teeth at my coy behavior.

"That smile doesn't belong to your face!" she hisses vehemently.

I can see her eyeing it disdainfully. The grin drops from me, leaving only a small amused smirk.

"No, I suppose it does not."

She leers warily up at me, gaze flickering down to the floor, then back towards me.

"What I said before was true… You did love him."

I say nothing in response. My nostrils flare and my fists clench; an answer in itself.

"What was he like? Back in the early cycles, I mean." She questions softly.

I am nearly thrown into an appalled rage at the inquiry. A great part of me wanted to keep all feelings and memories about Flynn to myself. Sharing and indulging them with no one. They were mine, and mine alone. Her imploring gaze halts my anger. It searches hopelessly into my eyes. I cannot comprehend why, until I realize… She has given up any thought of his return. He is gone. Gone forever from her. He can only exist for her now in memory.

A muscle in my jaw clenches as I stare sternly down at her. I think about the inappropriately personal question… There were many words to describe Flynn. Deep in my coding, I knew a way to sum up all of them.

"He was like a father." Comes my bitter statement.

A small smile pulls at her pale lips. Her eye trails off to a corner of the room, lost in some type of feeling.

"For me as well." She said quietly. "He made me feel happy… Loved, especially." The ISO adds.

I, too, could once recall those feelings. My circuits flare as I remember why those feelings no longer existed.

"Yet, he did not love you enough to save you from _me_." I snap.

Her eye jets back towards me. She frowns at me but brushes off my frosty accusation.

"He feels guilty, you know. For everything that has transpired between the two of you."

Heaviness falls upon my chest. I feel bitterness froth inside of my circuits. At this junction in time, either party seeking forgiveness would be pointless. It would not undo the actions previously done. We can try and cling on to the old memory files. I can pretend that Flynn is still faithful to the System. Flynn can pretend that I was same program that he created thousands of cycles ago… But it would not matter. I cannot forget how he betrayed me, and I am sure he cannot forget how I have taken nearly everything from him.

"That is meaningless to me." I state coldly.

"I do not seek guilt or pity. I seek only perfection and if Flynn gets in the way, so be it."

Her frown deepens at this response.

"You say so… but I don't believe you."

I squint down at her in a threatening manner.

"What you may _believe_ is inconsequential."

I step towards her and the ISO immediately brings her knees flat against her chest and ducks her head down, curling into a ball. I loom over her, patiently waiting. She lifts her head to see that I am not angry but, instead, holding a hand out for her to take. She stares suspiciously at it. Waiting for the moment that it will clasp into a fist and come down at her… It doesn't.

Cautiously, she lifts an arm. She slips her hand into mine and I pull her up from the floor. She remains standing before me as I continue to clasp her hand with mine. I hold them up at chest level, the two hands lighted by my lucent orange glow. I stare curiously at them. The ISO had the same hand shape as I do. Only more slender and feminine. I strangely wonder that if we would remove our gloves, would she have the same shape of fingernail as well?

The ISO frowns at my odd inspection. I release her hand and she hides the appendage behind her back, worried if I may try to hold it again. A strange silence coagulates between us. I reach up in the darkness and push lightly on her shoulder. She takes the instruction to sit at the end of the bed. Her posture is stiff and rigid. She watches me intently, taking in every slight move I make, as I slowly take a seat beside her.

My orange glow mixes with the blue in her large eye.

"Lay down on your stomach." My voice delicately fills the silent void.

"Why?" she asks in a tight voice.

"Do as I say. Don't be afraid."

She scoffs at me, "Why should I be afraid? You've only tried to kill me numerous times." The ISO mutters.

I lift an unthreatening hand and touch her shoulder once more. She frowns at me but complies. I silently watch as she leans back, allowing herself to lie in the dark bed. Her black hair becomes lost in the color of the sheets. Gingerly, she turns over to be on her stomach, folding her arms for her head to rest more comfortably on. She continues to eye me suspiciously over her shoulder. I simply blink at her before reaching my arm up and around to retrieve her disc from the holder on my back.

I look away from her as I activate the disc and begin to scan her system for the damages.

"Why do you do that?" her light whisper floats through the air.

I do not answer as I finger through her files and coding.

"You could easily order the task to someone else… But you are always the one to repair my system."

Still, I do not reply. Her double helix is littered with yellow damaged coding. I begin to pick them out. The little damages buzz softly in the air together. I look up at the ISO to see her gaze following them around the room. My eyes trail back towards my lap as I engage a sequence in her disc to regenerate the splintered codes. The hologram disintegrates. I watch the ISO gaze curiously as the last damaged coding fizzes out of the air. Her eye catches my stare.

_Meaningless_. The word I uttered before rings loudly within me. Having no meaning. Lacking any significance or function.

I have meaning. I have a designated function. To bring the System to its peak. This is the reason why I was created, why I was 'born'. I have an objective and I can spend limitless cycles working to obtain it and that is the significance of my existence.

But… why?

There was a time when I felt pride and fulfillment in my actions to perfect the System. It was when I was doing it for Flynn. I had a sense that what I was doing, what I was _striving for_, had some sort of higher purpose behind it. When Flynn betrayed me, it became… hallowed. I could follow the encryption in my coding but there was no longer any gratification. The reasoning behind my point of existence has become… scattered.

My eyes wander over the ISO's body, the light of her suit forming out a map in the darkness. There is a horrible ache inside of me. It waves through my body and pulsates painfully at my fingertips. I frown deeply at the unwelcome sensation. I lean over her to hook her disc up and falter mid-way. That eye has trapped me again like a wire. Her brow is furrowed deeply, but not in an angry manner. The emotions in her eye swim about swiftly to and fro, preventing me from deciphering what they are.

I lean down and prop myself next to her on my elbow. The darkness in the room is thick. As I look into her visage, only the dainty squareness of her face can be seen. All else is lost in the black.

My lips separate ever slowly to address her and I can see her gaze lower to follow them.

"Do you understand nothingness, ISO?" my whisper is light. She squints as she strains to hear.

"To be in a vast and endless universe, and to have _nothing_?" comes my deploring voice.

She frowns at me and her eye flashes.

"I've begun to compute that perhaps there is no ultimate meaning. Perhaps we are born in an unresponsive world and barred forever from knowing why… Leaving us all lost and forced to _create_ reasons why." my teeth clench tightly as I restrain my anguish.

Anger, bitterness, confusion, resentment. I was able to identify all of the emotions and they made me want to tear away my hair, scratch at my skin until the pixels began to scrape away, break apart the room surrounding me. Her eye darts around my face as the storm beneath the skin churns. Her silence is heavy and threatening. I leer angrily at her I.D. as I flip it in my hands.

"Of course you do not understand." I mutter bitterly.

"I'm sorry that I am not as unintelligible as you are led to think, but yes, in fact I do understand!" she snaps at me in an offended tone.

I purse my lips as I look back up to the ISO. Her finely arched brows have straightened to a pin and come to sharply meet together. Her jaw juts forward slightly as her eye flashes at me.

"I _do_ compute the feeling of being lost. As point of existence goes, I have _none_. I have no written coding that tells me what my purpose is. My function within the System is pretty much obsolete. Ever since my creation, I have been trying to find my purpose. Don't be so quick to disregard me because you think I'm, for some reason, _inferior_."

I blink at her as the words travel through me. My head tilts sideways, my eyes raking over her face. The pristine glow of her skin, the dead and blackened pixels, the pale outlining of her lips that blend right into the skin.

"What do you do when you think of your obsolete existence?" I whisper.

I watch her jaw clench.

"I get a terrible feeling in my stomach, like I'm being sucked away and there's nothing for me to hold on to. Then I get this feeling that I'm the only one in the System… Just me, no one else." Her gaze trails off to the side as she evaluates her emotions.

The blue eye looks sharply back at me. "Then, I cry." She adds in a flat tone.

"It use to be that Flynn would speak to me and make me feel better. He said it was all part of the human condition… The search for one's ultimate meaning in existence. When he said that, the feeling that I was alone in the System would disappear." She sighs as she thinks about her lost creator.

Human condition…

I begin to wonder if Flynn preferred Isomorphic Algorithms because they were more human, more relatable in comparison to programs such as Tron and myself. Is that the promise he saw in them? That they could transcend the programs of the System in function? It was them that he planned to bring into the real world. Never regular programs. Never me. He did not believe it would work. We operate too differently. We would be unable to assimilate. The ISOs though, he saw them just as human as other Users.

I also think about the word she used before. _Inferior_.

She was truly in so many ways. From her appearance to her free range of emotions, they all make her imperfect. What about me in comparison? Was I perfect? Many cycles ago I could give an unwavering answer. Now, I am not too sure.

One of my gloved hands left the disc I was holding to dart up to my face. The claw marks that resided there ruined my previous flawlessness. My eyes glare scathingly at the ISO. She eyes me curiously, watching as I carefully finger the trails on my face.

"It's not so bad." She offers a somewhat forced comforting statement.

I retreat from my position of leaning beside her. I sit up straight near where her knees were. All of a sudden I wish the light of my suit would extinguish, leaving me lost in the dark. I clamp my teeth forcefully together.

"I should torture you for what you have done to my face." I hiss.

She stares over her shoulder at me and frowns deeply.

"Don't you get tired of being cruel or hurtful? Didn't you enjoy the conversation that we had?"

I press my lips together and ignore her; clenching her I.D. tightly in my hands. If the ISO is imperfect because of her range of emotions, then what did that make me? You cannot have complete order and control with such vast and powerful emotions. Terror swims through me as in the first time of my existence I begin to doubt myself. Have I allowed myself to slip down this path of User feelings? How do I create and maintain perfection when I, myself, am deeply flawed?

System Error.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

**A/N:: Thank you for being patient and, as always, for the reviews.**

_'__Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know-because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly-. And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands.' –_** F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned**

* * *

_Memory File 0105_

Flynn flips through my CPU. Synching in new data and codes. All that I am… My very _being_… in his hands. Those hands that sift through the files and documents so nimbly are exactly identical to my own. They hold my interest as Flynn continues to work.

"Sorry about the wait. I just need to update your combat software and then I'm done."

My eyes trail up to his face, which is set in concentration. My brows furrow together.

"Combat?" I question.

I saw no use for the software. I was programmed to build and create. Not to fight.

"Tron's is all ready so advanced. But, if he were to fail for any reason, I want you to be efficient enough to take his place until I can create a replacement."

"Don't you think something more useful could take its place?"

"Well, uh, no. Like I said, if Tron were to ever go Offline, you are the only other I trust to protect my life."

"But I am not programmed to protect Users."

Flynn pauses in his work and gives me a peculiar look.

"If you had to choose between saving me or the System, which would it be, CLU?" he asks quietly.

The query catches me by surprise. Words bubble in my mouth as an answer. _The System_. I hold it back. Something tells me that this is incorrect. The question begins to trouble me.

Flynn or the System? My coding tells me the System. It was the reason I was created. I am connected to it. My primary objective is to bring it to perfection. How can I obtain perfection if there is nothing to build upon?

But what about Flynn?

"What happens to you if I were to choose the System?"

"I die." Flynn says in a toneless voice.

I purse my lips at this. This User is my only comrade. He is my creator. Everything that I am and hope to be… is him. If he were to cease to exist… It would be catastrophic. Horrible. Devastating. To think about it causes an unpleasant feeling in my body.

"I would choose you, even if my coding tells me otherwise." I finally decide.

The worried expression on Flynn's face smoothed out and he gave an airy laugh.

"Thank you, CLU. That means a lot to me." He continues his work.

"What is the expression for that? To go against what your coding tells you?"

"It's following your heart instead of your mind. That is a good thing, man." He says with a nod.

"Sometimes the mind can be misleading. I've always thought that trueness lies in the heart."

"How can a mind be misleading?" I couldn't compute his explanation.

"Sometimes minds tell you something is bad because every possible logical explanation makes it as such. But… some things are beyond logic. Beyond numbers and calculated outcomes. That's when you have to listen to your heart."

He seemed satisfied with his answer and I dropped the conversation in fear of being too prying, but I still could not comprehend. I know nothing but logic and reason, how was I to deviate from it? Did Flynn create me with a heart? In my understanding, a heart was just an organ that Users possess. I do not have inner organs. I am only a computer program.

* * *

I am flawed. Deeply, undeniably, flawed. How could I not see? How could I have not realized? The ISO was correct. My emotions operate on the same level as a User. Terror races through me at the mere thought. It feels like I have been infected with a disease without realizing it. I can imagine it before my eyes, slithering through my jagged circuitry. I wanted to plunge my hand into my CPU and rip it out of me.

The ISO turns over on the bed and brings herself up to sit beside me. I glare dangerously at her from beneath my brows. The heavy darkness is not enough. I wish for our suits to go out. Hiding my flawed face, my flawed system. From her. From myself. My grip on the I.D. has become increasingly harsh. I can feel the edges digging through my gloves and into my palms.

She, the ISO… She makes me _feel_. She adds to my disease, setting it aflame. I do not think I have ever detested anyone more than her. The way she crawls into my system and tears me apart, I cannot stand it. She will destroy me. Create calamity. And still, she will not hate me like I hate her. Any act of violence I commit against her, she readily forgives. It infuriates me. Why will she not reflect that violence back?

That rage slithers through me, creating hot electricity in my body. A hand reaches in the darkness. The fingers curled and strained. Wishing to feel her soft neck beneath them, so they may squeeze and crush. She watches without concern. The gaze trails down my hand, up my arm, following my yellow light. Something stirs in my chest at this action. Her blue eye finally comes to rest on my face. So clear. So free. The calm in it reminds me of the waters from which she was born.

"You said Flynn was like a father… Why would you hate a father?"

I clench my hand tightly, my muscles shaking, her eye continuing to pull at me. There is a sinking sensation in my chest before my hand falls back into my lap and I look away from her. I wish to cause her pain for the frustration and confusion she causes me, but for some reason, I find myself unable to.

"He left me… for _you_." I say sharply, venom laced into my hazard words.

Silence resonates between us. I cannot tell if it is from her guilt or simple uneasiness from the accusation.

"You seem to think there is a likeness between us." I breathe softly though my nose as I speak. "That you can somehow connect with me on the basis of our separate relationships with Flynn." I look upon her once again. My eyes concentrated into slits.

"True, we both knew him more than any other programs in the System. But that means nothing." I lean forward towards her.

"If I could kill Flynn, I would. It does not matter whether I once loved him, if he was my father or friend. The entire world I have built, was built upon a lie. He took my trust and cast it to the side. To make him pay would cause great satisfaction in me." I hiss.

The ISO shakes her head, "No, that's not true. He didn't lie. He cared about you." She whispers back, that eye is becoming glassy with sadness.

"Ever think that he may have just been using you? He trained and brainwashed you into his own little bodyguard, didn't he? He had you save his son, and ensure their safety back into the Real World. Do you see him coming back for you ISO? The father that you love, is he here?"

"I told him not-"

"_Yes_, that's what you said." I cut across her. "But we both know that deep down, you wanted him to come back and save you. You wanted him to fulfill his promise to take you out there with him."

Silent tears slip over her cheek. From her damaged eye, blackened pixels start to crumble and disintegrate, further disfiguring her face.

"Our creator has abandoned us, ISO. So you see… it does not matter if we have programmed functions or encrypted purpose, because it is pointless in the end. What we were made for has lost meaning. We have been left here in this trap. This place of infinite space. Marching around in an attempt to make ourselves useful.

Millions of cycles will pass and one day, perhaps, the System will finally fail. Everything that we were, everything that we tirelessly built… Will be gone. Deleting our very trace of existence. It would be like you were never born at all and, I, never written. Do you have that feeling in you, ISO? That feeling in which you're being sucked away and have nothing to hold on to? That feeling that you're absolutely… alone?"

Her lip trembles as she stares into my eyes. Waiting for me to say what she does not wish to acknowledge.

"We are alone, ISO. You know it's true. Solitary all the way until our deletion." I speak slowly in a low voice, allowing everything I have said to sink into her. "There is no Flynn to tell you otherwise. We. Are. Alone, ISO."

The look on her face is one of utter pain. Her skin has reduced in color; her cheeks more hallowed. Those tears form thin streams over her cheekbone, down into the crevice of her cheeks, and dip into the soft corner of her mouth.

"You're a corrupted program." Comes her shaky voice.

I open my mouth to retort something back, but nothing comes. My eyes dart around her face before my jaw shuts itself in a tight lock.

I grab the ISO by her thin arm, twist her around and fling her back onto the bed. The sudden action catches her off guard, and I use the opportunity to pin her down. She begins to struggle wildly against my body and screams into the sheets. I hold her face down by the back of her neck. I shush her in attempt to calm down her panicked frenzy.

My free hand firmly holds her Identity Disc. I hook it onto her holder and turn it clockwise until it clicks. The disc charges in a vivid white light. The ISO's muffled screams cease and her body goes limp as her system reboots. I retract myself from her and delicately roll her over.

A corrupted program…

I think silently to myself as I gently pull her to the middle of the bed. On her face, the blackened pixels are jumping to life and regenerating themselves. Slowly, but surely, clustering back together to shape her left eye.

This hindering defect within my system… These _emotions_… They corrupt me. They always have, but I had refused to take notice. I should have realized back in the early cycles, when I struggled to choose between extracting vengeance against Flynn or adhering to my primary objective. But it was so much more… _gratifying_ to chase after Flynn and strip him of everything. I suppose that is the problem, isn't it? I'm not supposed to feel anything about it, not even gratification. I am meant to function in numbers and calculations. Detached. At least, I think so. Is that not how other programs operate?

I wasn't sure.

I tear off my black gloves and toss them into a corner in the darkness. I stare down at my bare palms. They are the same as Flynn's. Every little etch and line perfectly identical to his own. I think about the concept of identity, and how I do not even have the privilege of having my own distinct hands. I clench my teeth angrily before rubbing my knuckles together.

I wasn't even aware on how to properly operate. Where was this doubt manifesting? What was wrong with me?

"Sir!"

The door slides open, the light from the outside temporarily blinding me. I jump from my seat on the bed and stand as Voltas enters the room with two Black Guards.

"Are you alright, sir?" Voltas stands in front of the other two.

"Of course I am!" I feel anger simmering in my circuits.

"Perhaps you should thank the ISO, Voltas, for being merciful towards you. She could have easily derezzed you in your folly." I hiss.

The program steps back slightly, his gloved fingers drumming on his staff as his helmet dips downward.

"And you are supposed to be my main guard." I gaze disapprovingly down my nose at him.

"Don't let it happen again." Voltas merely nods in acquiesce.

I look over my shoulder at the ISO, rebooting soundlessly on my bed. My eyes trail away to the floor.

"Take her back to the cell."

It feels as though this order is being forced from me. A deep frown pulls at me as the two Black Guards advance on her. They bound her legs and arms in case she wakes during the transport. From the corner of my eye, I see Voltas' head inclined towards my own. His curious gaze penetrating through his opaque black helmet. I quickly wipe the frown from my face.

"Re-use the ceiling binds in the containment cell." I mutter. Once again, the words feeling forced.

There is an unpleasant churning in my abdomen as I watch them carry her away. Together, Voltas and I exit the Rebooting Chamber. My eyes remain on the Black Guards as they walk across my quarters and finally exit through the sliding door.

"Sir, there are some problems that must be addressed in Sector 11. Rogue programs have been damaging the architecture beyond repair." Voltas speaks from beside me.

I nod, "Very well." I speak through pursed lips.

* * *

The building had been decimated. The remains all but a heap of useless damaged data. The buildings that had stood by it where covered with debris. Red Soldiers had cut off the perimeter so as to allow myself and the Black Guards to investigate without interference. This was a very important structure. It manufactured the specially made Recognizers I designed myself.

I crouched down and picked up a blackened shard of data, turning it over with my fingers.

There was a reason why this structure was targeted. Not simply for the reason that it produced Recognizers, which are now seen as an ominous vehicle in the lives of Basic programs. No, it was destroyed because it represented what I have brought to the Grid.

User sympathizers did this.

My clenched fist disintegrated the data held in my palm. I stood angrily and wiped my hand on my thigh to remove any debris. Voltas stood close by, awaiting my orders. I placed my hands on my hips and kicked a large chunk of data out of the street.

"Clean up the mess quickly and quietly. The Sector needs to regain its stability, after that we will begin plans for reconstruction."

He nodded and set off to give my orders. The sound of a light cycle drawing near caused me to look down the far street. The program slowed down as they got closer to me, finally coming to a complete halt a few feet away. Long legs leading to heeled boots planted themselves to the ground. The white helmet shrank back into the neck of the suit revealing the program to be Merkury. I cross my arms as I watch her flick her curled hair over her shoulder and dismount the light cycle.

"You know who did this, I presume?"

She gazes at the rubble behind me as she approaches.

"Yes." Comes her haughty reply. "Perhaps if you listened when I first came to tell you, this may have been prevented." She tilts her head up, staring down at me through the corner of her eye.

I glare deeply at her before twirling my finger, signaling for her to turn about. She places a hand on her waist and complies, standing stiffly with her back towards me. I remove her I.D. with a _click_.

"Should I continue to allow them to use the lower levels of the club as a place of junction?" she questions as I search through her filing.

"Yes." I answer simply as I take out my own disc as well.

Finding what I needed, I copied the files from Merkury's disc to mine. At the completion of the process, I hook my disc onto my back and return Merkury's to its rightful place. She turned to face me.

"Continue with your objective."

Her jaw juts out, ignoring my order.

"That girl in your quarters. She was an ISO." Given as a statement and not as a question.

I realize that there are certain programs within my inner circle whom have not been keeping their mouths shut. My eyes rake icily over them before turning back to Merkury. She watches apprehensively as my circuits glow dangerously.

"It is none of your concern." Comes my steely reply.

Thin brows stitch together as she sniffs at my tone, "Why is she not set up for deresolution? You said that ISOs are too dangerous to have within the System."

I answer her tersely, "She is different."

"_Why_?" she questions with earnest.

"I do not think you need reminding twice of how to _mind your place_." I hiss dangerously.

Her cheeks darken in color from being scorned. Her eyes set on me in a fierce, icy manner but they do not bother me. I owe her nothing. No explanations. She is beneath me. She has no place in challenging my stance with the ISO. Why was she interested at all? Did she dislike ISOs for the same reason as I? Or is it plain and simple mimicry?

"How do you feel about ISOs, Merkury?" I ask curiously.

"Feel?" she says the word with distaste. I nod tersely.

"I only know that they are a burden to the System." She flicks her hair once again.

I cross my arms in dissatisfaction. As I thought, it was not true opinion. Only one she has heard or seen me project and has decided to mimic… Much like many other programs. I look up and witness a strike of electricity across the churning purple sky.

"What are your feelings for me, your ruler?" I ask carefully as I come to look at her once again.

She stares at me in irritation. "I do not understand the question."

"What do you _think_ of me?" I attempt to make the question clearer for her but Merkury still stares in confusion.

"Since your reign as Administrator, I believe the Grid has run more smoothly than ever before. Because of you my rank has gone up, I have become runner of End of Line, and have had the chance to help serve you better the System against rebel programs."

What she described had nothing to do with feeling, and it created hollowness in my chest. She is not like me. She cannot comprehend User feelings, nor could she formulate her own opinions. But the ISO can. The ISO thinks and feels on her own accord. How? Perhaps ISOs are simply born with ability to feel, while programs require having it written for them. Then what about me? Did Flynn purposely write me different? But why?

"Are you all right, CLU?"

I look up from the point on the ground I had been staring through. I say nothing and simply gaze blankly at the female program. Her pale pink lips tilt in a small frown. I recall the loneliness I would have when Flynn would leave for cycles at a time. Once you have had a conversation with Flynn, all others seem washed out. Gray. Limited. I would find difficulty interacting with other programs. I felt it again here with Merkury. She does not understand. There is something missing from the conversation. With a heavy stomach, I realize that I do not feel this alienation when I am speaking with the ISO.

"Well?"

What if I respond with no? What would she say then?

I step backwards from her as my helmet envelopes my face.

All right. Am I all right? No, I do not believe I am. I feel too far from it.

I walk away from Merkury and the wreckage.

* * *

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Input.

Output.

Input.

Out…

Levels and levels of data streams. Surging lines of coding.

There is a stitch. A crack. A nuisance. It sparks irritatingly in my body whenever my mind skims across it. What is it? Some sort of disturbance. Something that does not belong. Every time I attempt to dig deeper, something blocks me. It is something beyond me. Something I cannot touch. What is it?

"You meditate as well?"

The connection is broken. I become self aware of my sitting body. The low hum of electricity. My soft breathing coupled by another's across the room. Slowly, my eyes open coming to meet the blue ones in the darkness. She stares at me with curiosity from her hanging position. Unperturbed by the fact that I am in the corner of her containment cell. That I had been silently watching while she rebooted.

"No." I answer softly.

"Strange… You look very much like him when he _is_ meditating."

I despise the fact that she only sees _him_ when she looks at me. It appears she does not find this favorable either. Her expression is one of mixed inquisitiveness and reproachful. My elbows come to rest lazily upon my bent knees. Absentmindedly, I trace the strip of circuitry on my arm, all the way down to my forefinger.

"It is a way for me to connect myself to the Grid."

She matches my low, soft tone. "What do you mean?"

I try to think of words to describe it but find it too difficult. This connection has been with me since my creation. I was able to feel the Grid like it was living entity. It helped calm me. I could be lost in the feeling of exploring the Grid and forget everything else. It was something I treasured above many things.

"It is something that cannot be explained." I answer tonelessly.

"You must have a strong connection. Your glow was very bright while you were submersed in it." Her voice is kind and I find myself frowning at the sound. My eyes squint up at her before shooting down.

"Yes." I mutter.

Silence fills the air after my words. I do not look at her; instead I leave my attention to the circuitry on my arms. No other program knows about this unique connection that I have. I was not even sure if Flynn was aware when he created me. I had always felt that it was personal and as something I treasured I wanted to keep the knowledge to myself. But I was able to tell the ISO terrifyingly easy. I did not even feel regret towards it.

"You don't wonder… about the reasons why I am here?" my voice is subdued but I feel as though it is excruciatingly loud. Bouncing off the walls and obnoxiously filling the miniscule space.

I chance a look at her. The ISO is frowning down at the floor, as if she is also asking herself the same question. Those blue eyes flicker up towards me.

"Maybe there is no reason." she answers simply.

There is no reason.

There. Is. No. Reason.

No reason.

How can there be no reason? Everything has a reason. I rub my bottom lip as my mind runs in circles trying to make sense of her logic. Perhaps there was no sense in her words. The same for why I was down here. There was no sense behind it.

"Why did you reinstate use of the ceiling binds?" she questions lightly.

My thinking slows and I come to glare up at her. I think about how Voltas had stared at me and the panic I felt surging when I suspected myself of being too soft with the ISO. But this is not the answer I want to give. This is a feeling I do not want her to know about.

"Do you believe you deserve comfort?" I spit.

"You should be thankful that you're still running after that fiasco. Especially with what you did to my face."

I signal to the imperfect marks streaked across my face. Her expression scrunches up as if to retort something back, but instead she tosses her head back and releases a tone of frustration. She remains in that position for some time. Breathing heavily through her nose and staring up at the dark ceiling. Possibly thinking about the injustice of the situation. I sigh in irritation at her. She has decided to ignore me. This is not something I want. No one ignores me. I attempt to entice her into another conversation.

"Tell me about your experiences with the creator, ISO."

Her head dips back down to stare down at me in surprise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

**A/N:: Thank you for being patient. Real life has been hectic. Thank you, as always, for the reviews.**

'Somewhere along the way  
My hopefulness turned to sadness  
Somewhere along the way  
My sadness turned to bitterness  
Somewhere along the way  
My bitterness turned to anger  
Somewhere along the way  
My anger turned to vengeance' **– Julian Casablancas**

* * *

There is a whisper in the darkness.

Short, soft, muffled.

Another answers. Just as low in tone and muffled in sound. Something turns in the darkness. A light appears like a mist and blurs in and out of focus. Another forms beside it. They begin to solidify and take their own unique form and color. The darkness around them starts to wave and dissipate as their environment comes into focus.

Two male programs sit at a glass round table, speaking is hushed whispers. The one on the right has finely sculpted black hair. His eyes are a bright teal that match his circuitry. His black-gloved hand is clenched tightly around something. His companion, the second program, has vibrant red hair that was tousled and combed back. His pale hand rests on his chin as his gray eyes stare wearily at the object in the other's hand.

The first program speaks up, "This time it will work." His voice is set in sharp determination.

The red haired program appears skeptical, "How can you be so sure? Last time-"

The dark haired program cuts across him, "Last time the plans were done hastily. There were too many 'what ifs' and the fault lies with me for authorizing it. Not to mention we underestimated his new enforcer-"

"Who caused the deresolution of a collection of loyal programs." The red head adds in sourly.

The dark haired program looks sharply at the red head, "_Yes_. I did not forget about the casualties, Jav. Once again that fault lies with me for being too brash."

He stares down at his hand. Opening his palm reveals a single green chip, which he picks up with his thumb and forefinger; bringing it up to stare at eye level.

"Things were simpler when Tron was able to lead us." He admits in a listless tone.

He flicks the chip in the air and snatches it in his fist on the way down.

"Yes, well CLU made good use of him, didn't he? Let's just hope that this new strategy works, Cerf." Jav scowls.

Cerf's gaze travels downwards, allowing darkness to pool into his eye sockets and hide his light orbs. Trepidation causes his lips to form a thin line.

"Greetings programs."

The voice causes the two male programs to jolt to their feet. Hands on their identity discs, they turn to the far right corner behind them. A female program stands there, a small smile playing on her pink lips. Cerf releases a sigh of relief and lowers his raised arm. Jav looks upon the female program scathingly and firmly holds his disc in hand.

"Certainly are a sly one, Merkury." He bites disdainfully.

Merkury raises an eyebrow at him while Cerf nods appreciatively. "All the more better for this mission."

Jav stays in place as Cerf marches up to the female. He holds up his hand, the green chip glistens in his palm. Merkury eyes it with interest.

"This data needs to be transferred to program Syn. You will find her in Sector 11 in Area 53, compute?"

"Area 53?" Merkury's brows come tightly together in confusion. "But, that is the where Recognizers are made."

Cerf smiles broadly at the white program. "_Exactly_. You do know your Grid, Merkury. We will have infinite use for you if you accomplish this objective."

Merkury opens her mouth to say more, but promptly decides against it. Her jaw snaps shut and she gives a curt nod before turning on her heel to allow access to her disc. Cerf unhooks the item and carefully presses a button on the inner circle. A piece of the plating shifts back to reveal a port. Nimbly, Cerf slips the chip into place and watches as the plate reseals itself.

Satisfied, he rehooks the disc and turns it until it clicks. The sound of whirling energy begins to grow as Merkury's circuitry surges brilliantly. The white glow reflects sharply against the faces of the male programs. The glow begins to dull back down to its usual soft hue. Without delay, Merkury quickly turns about to face Vint once more.

"Have a safe transfer, and be sure to make a complete download."

Once again, Merkury gives a mute nod.

Cerf steps back from her and gives a vastly recognized salute, "Long live the Users!"

Jav repeats it and both programs look expectantly upon the female. Merkury's eyes dart from one to the other before resting on the floor.

"Long live the Users." She whispers.

* * *

The memory ended, freezing at its last frame. I stared up at the projection screen showing the three programs. Leaning forward, I rested my chin on my laced fingers. The dark haired male program seemed familiar to me, but I could not recollect from where. I stared hard at the program's face and his spiked black hair. Cerf, Cerf, Cerf… I cannot recall ever hearing the name before.

I lowered my hands from my face and set to work on the touch screen dash before me. A few keystrokes and the program's data file was displayed on the projection screen. I rubbed my lip as I surveyed it. He was just an average Basic. Clean record. Never needed to be rectified or put in the Games.

The Gaming Grid…

I frown as I suddenly remember battling against the Son of Flynn during the Lightcycle Challenge. There was a lone program on the Grid, waiting to be assisted by the User. It was him. I was very sure of it. How could this program still be running? He was derezzed after I ran my lightcycle over him.

I scrolled further through his file until I found an explanation at the bottom of the screen.

**Brother Program Vint**

Even more curious, I pulled up his data. Vint was identical to his brother and had nearly exact same filing, but beneath program Vint's picture were large bold letters declaring that he was subject to deresolution.

"Is there going to be a plan this time?"

Languidly, I looked sideways at Merkury. She sat lazily in a chair beside my own. A single brow twitched upwards in a challenging, lofty manner. This simple action infuriated me like no other. I stared intensely at the elegant arch leading me to violent thoughts. I had been set into a nasty mood from earlier before.

I forced a smile on my face and gave a low chuckle.

"The _plan_-" I drawled. "The plan, good program, is to sit and wait once more. Find out if they have any more bases of operation, gather any data that you can, and identify every rebel program that you come in contact with. I want their files at my disposal. When we have everything that we need…"

I reached out to her. She frowned in confusion as I touched her chin in a pseudo-affectionate manner, just like how I use to.

"Then we will destroy them, along with every program they have ever known." I finish.

I retract my hand and her mouth falls open in a small gape. I raise my eyebrows at her and she quickly closes her mouth and looks to the floor.

"I am tired Merkury." I stand from my seat and gaze at the screen with my hands clasped behind me.

"Tired of insubordination. Tired of hearing the word '_Flynn_' being whispered around the System. Tired of having to deal with the pests challenging my perfect creation." I ended with a sigh.

"The thought… of simply eliminating all nuisance programs and starting the System a fresh becomes all too _illuminating_ as each cycle passes. Wouldn't you think so, Merkury?" I turn to give the female a deadened expression.

In return, she stared frostily up at me.

But it was all true. I preached that I was their true leader because I was one of them. I was a program; I was to know them better than a User. Logically, yes, I did understand them better. But Flynn also _cared_. Unfortunately, I do not care for any of them. Perhaps my lack of connection adds to my ruthlessness; but I do not care all together. I see them all as expendable and replaceable.

"You would do that?" she questions.

"Insubordination works against my objective to gain perfection within the System, Merkury. Those who are against me will be eliminated. No exceptions." I declare in an unperturbed tone.

I step towards her and watch as her throat quivers nervously. I was at an end with her attitude, and I would let her know it.

"I could kill you… and it would be so easy." I simper as I stand over her.

Her eyes widened as my shadow over took her face.

"I could do it right now, with just my disc. Or, I could have my Black Guards come for you while you're rebooting in your home. Or, could even infect you with a virus. Watch you slowly succumb into a primitive and destructive abomination. Or… I could also lock you in the Containment block, and sweep away the memory of your existence from every program you've met; then just have you deteriorate in darkness. I could make you disappear indefinitely, Merkury, it is something I am very good at. Next time you feel the urge to make a remark towards your creator, remember that you are nothing but an expendable collection of data." I look scathingly down upon her.

"My perfect world does not have room for your insolence." I add in.

"But it _does_ have room for you ISO."

Without thinking, my arm shoots down and grabs her roughly by the front of her suit. Her scream of fright shakes me and I abruptly drop her. She cowered in her chair as I loomed breathing heavily above her.

"NEVER AGAIN SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY!" my roaring voice reverberated off the walls of the room, attacking my ears.

"_NEVER_ AGAIN SPEAK OF THAT VIRUS!"

My own fear and embarrassment turned into rabid anger. It took immense control for me to not eradicate her.

"If you want to keep your voice chip then GO! Go now before I rip it from your throat!" I pointed savagely towards the door.

She stuttered an apology and quickly ducked away from me; out the door she fled. I flung myself into my chair, my nostrils flaring in heated breath and my right hand clenching my face. The nails through my gloves digging into me. As my breathing slowed and my temper began to evaporate, my hand eased up and began to trace the scars on my face.

The ISO.

I should have killed her when I had the chance.

* * *

_Earlier…_

"We would meditate all the time. He taught me how relax my body and still my mind, to cleanse myself of all bad thoughts and worries. Afterwards, we would sit together… just talking. It was just us… for a long time."

I watched the different range of emotion that passed through her eyes and listened to how her tone became strangled at the end.

"You witnessed him grow old." I state simply.

Her eyes do not meet my own. I can barely make out her low whisper,

"Yes. I did."

'You don't like it when I'm close to you. It's because of my face."

Slowly, I stand from my spot in the corner. She continues to hang in the center of the cell. The dead weight of her body was paying a heavy toll on her bound wrists. The skin was beginning to chip away, revealing her circuitry underneath. Her oddly angled hair hid her eyes from me.

"Because it was _his_ face…"

"I've told you this before." Came her immediate response.

"Yes, you did." Came my hushed whisper. "But what about my touch?"

My fingers delicately reach out for her stomach. Before I can make contact, the muscles there constrict and she tilts her body away from my hand. I allow my outstretched arm to fall back to my side.

"I believe you cared for him more than you let on… in a _different_ type of way." I whispered slyly.

She lifts her head up. Her blue eyes are glassy and sad. Her upper lip is wet and trembling.

"The feelings I had for him were unrequited, but I did not mind. As he grew old, those feelings disappeared. He was all I had. I had nothing… because of _you_." She completed the confession with a snarl.

"I do not care that I've destroyed all that you care for, ISO. Your people did not belong here. And when Flynn finally comes to remember that he left his little pet in here, I'll kill him when he comes to the rescue." Came my passive voice.

"That's not true!" she objects. "They had every right to be here! And you would never kill Flynn!

I see it on your face when I talk about him. You miss him! You miss him very much!"

"He betrayed me. I don't miss him." I hiss.

"_How_? How did he betray you?" her tone is challenging.

"It was not supposed to be this way… Nothing was supposed to be this way. There was a plan and the plan was perfect. He made promises and I believed them. Then the ISOs came and the plan changed and he forgot to keep his promises."

"How can you be so cold towards your creator? How can you even _think_ of ending his life?"

"_Because_ he is my creator is the reason why I need to destroy him."

"That… that does not make sense!" she grits her teeth at me.

I give a heavy sigh, "Because you still love him, because you still _adore_ him, you will not understand."

The skin around my nose begins to wrinkle in displeasure as I speak.

"As much as how I use to love him, I now hate him. I hate him enough to take all that he cares for away. His life. His ambitions. You. His _son_."

Something flashes across her eyes at the mention of Sam. My displeasure deepens.

"Son of _Flynn_. He is now the new object of your affection, is he not?" he face grows stony from my sneering.

"Just a pitiful boy-" I continue. "-and, if you ask me, one of Flynn's most abysmal creations."

"That's not true!" she snaps.

"Sam is kind, brave, selfless, _warm_, and-and all the things you could never possibly be!" she persists.

Slowly, I smile at her. It feels unnatural on my face. The action wipes the anger from her eyes. They widen as I step in closer to her. She truly is not bad looking. Not at all. No where near the beauty that Merkury is, but non the less… There is an innocence that permeates through her pearly skin. The way she holds her features. The pale lips left slightly agape. Those wide, blue eyes… Those eyes, I cannot put them up to par with any other programs… and I do not know why.

I lean close to her; my gloved fingers push the black tendrils behind her ear. My fingers rest at the base of her skull. Ensnaring themselves into her hair and ensuring she would not move her head away.

"I heard you, when you thought you were alone. I heard you whisper his name so _longingly_." I breathe hotly in her ear.

I can feel a slight shiver that runs through her body. I close my eyes at the action and clench my fingers tighter in her hair. I open my eyes and gaze at the slight piece of neck that peaks out at the top her suit. I dip my face lower, imaging brushing my nose against it. Feeling the warmth and softness that resides there. I breathe against her once more and produce the same quick shiver effect.

I pull my head up to peer into her face. She is scared and confused. And those blue eyes… I stare into them and understand why they entrance me. They are filled with emotions that other programs cannot even fathom. She is like me. She feels like how a User feels. It's what leaks out from behind those blue eyes that make them so…

I know the word, but I refuse to think it.

My opposite hand rests on her shoulder, glides up her arm to where her wrists meet. They are so thin that I am able to wrap my thumb and middle finger around one. I am close to her now. Our two lights melding together. Orange and blue.

"ISO…" I whisper.

"What I am-" her voice cracks but then regains volume. "-is not who I am. I have a name."

I pull away slightly and trace her face with my eyes.

_Quorra_.

The heat that I felt from before becomes snuffed out. My hand glides back down her arm and drops down to my side. The other leaves her hair and I retreat from her body. We stare at one another. My face is utterly blank while hers is still riddled with confusion.

She parts her lips and a light pink tongue flicks out to moisten them before she speaks.

"You once said to me that you would claim my heart as yours… and turn me against Flynn."

I remain silent. My eyes merely flickered down to the ground and back up again.

"I will never be yours." She whispers fiercely.

I can feel myself shaking as the statement sunk in. My entire being wished to kill her.

"You will regret saying that." My cold voice rings through the cell as I head for the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:: I do not own any characters from Tron. They all belong to Disney.**

_'You're something beautiful a contradiction  
I want to play the game  
I want the friction  
You will be the death of me' _**_– Muse, Our Time is Running Out_**

* * *

From my balcony, I gazed out into my world. The lights and sounds of the city were over powering yet somehow I felt detached. The sky churned in its sinister purple, blue, and black. Every now and again, it would set off an electrical discharge in the Outlands. Illuminating the far away mountains, for just a moment, before they faded back into darkness. A wind brushes softly through the city. I slowly close my eyes as I feel a few of my hairs tickle against my forehead. I can feel the air gliding over my skin. Moving around my solid body. Then, it was gone.

I did not fear death or deletion. I do not think I ever have. It has always been my objective that was put before myself. That was the way it has always been until now.

Now, I open my eyes and I see nothing but a dark box. Trapped in here for eternity. Then in one moment we will cease to be and nothing will matter. Nothing I ever did… will matter. The reasons for my creation feel as if they have become obsolete. But why has this happened? Does the fault lie with Flynn? His absence makes my inefficiency feel like a gaping hole. I no longer have the Creator to give me new directives. I was filled with such resentment that I thought him unfit to direct me or the rest of the Grid. So, I pushed him out and claimed his place. I did not want to admit that I needed him. My listlessness is my own doing.

My eyes trail downwards to watch the people on the streets. Just a myriad of color blending together. I cannot help but be reminded of how I do not feel a part of them. I suddenly feel fatigued and solitary. I retreat back into my domicile. The glass door slides behind me and shuts out the noise from the outside. My stark white room. Flynn's hideout reminded me of my own dwellings. It was discomforting to know how similar we really are, even in our taste of environment. I grow weary thinking about him all the time. Everything is a reminder of our separation and our connection.

I saunter to my couch where I sprawl myself, attempting to gain relaxation. Remaining stationary, I gaze through my floor into nothing. I felt restless; something jittered inside of my system that I could not understand. So I remained sitting, festering on my couch while staring through the floor.

My mind was continuously swarmed by thoughts of Flynn and thoughts of the ISO. Since her show of defiance in the cell, I have steered away from seeing her. I despised myself at the thought of being weak and her knowing about it. Her knowing that she can simply speak to me a certain way and I will shy away from her proximity. How did she do this to me? Programs fear me. She should fear me as well. I am not the one that is weak. It is _her_.

I begin to think about her large eyes. I think about the pale skin that peaks out of her suit at the neck and shoulder. I think about slowly running my fingers over these parts. Dipping my head to nuzzle her throat, latching my lips against the soft skin there.

I release a strangled growl, as my heavy palm collides with my forehead. My fingers curl like claws and the nails begin to dig into my skin.

I cannot stop thinking of her. I am weak. She makes me so. I can't help it or bear it.

My eyes trail upwards to see my reflection in the grand window. I see the distress on my face. The way I'm clutching myself accentuates my scars and makes me look maniacal and unkempt. My eyes fall away, unable to look at my pitiful image any longer. If it is even possible, thoughts of her fill me with more dejection than thoughts of Flynn.

Her words spin in a circle inside my mind, forever on replay.

_I will never be yours._

The softness of her voice and the movement of her lips as she said this are forever burned into me. Why does it cause such anger?

I am CLU. Administrator to the System. I have brought this city to its peak. I have eradicated all imperfections. I defied the Users and made them fear _us_. I take what is mine. Who does she think she is to say such a thing to me? She is only a disgusting mistake spewed out by the Grid. A bug meant to squashed.

Look at what she has done to me. I am not myself anymore. I cannot even perceive who I am _supposed_ to be.I need to stop this way of thinking. I need to divert my attentions.

My body slips away from the couch and onto the floor, where I sit rigidly with my legs crossed. I close my eyes and push away my poisonous thoughts. I concentrate on my body.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

I can feel the energy circulating through me. From my chest, to down my arms, and where it tingles at my fingertips. Down my torso, passed my thighs and knees, to my toes. I can feel it pulsating out of the bottoms of my feet, branching out like roots across the white floor where it becomes part of my surroundings. It grows and grows and touches the walls, the furniture, the doors, and the windows. Overtaking every inch of my domicile and continuing it's spread outwards. To the floors below mine, to the streets outside, the buildings connected, the programs walking and touching that are transferring and conferring that energy. I can feel them all. A million feelings all at once and yet every one is distinct. My body is far away. There is only the circuitry of the System. There is only peace and stillness.

My steady breath falters. There it was again. Like a sharp hook snagging on to me. I cannot see it, but I can definitely feel it. It's… something foreign. It does not belong. I feel no trace of Flynn within it, neither my touch of recoding. I do not like the feelings it causes me. Dread is welling up inside me.

What are you?

I push deeper and deeper, attempting to identify its coding. Suddenly, a screech erupts in my head. I strangle out a scream as I clutch my head. It sounds like thousands of machines wailing and scraping and it's getting louder and louder, I cannot hear my own screams! It's about to split open my skull!

There is a hand grabbing on to my arm but I cannot see. My vision is clouded by bright red. There's a voice peaking over the wailing. They are shaking me. The sound begins to wade away, leaving only a low buzzing in my skull. I close my eyes again and I see the circuitry outline of a male program. He has my color.

"Sir."

The low, distorted voice of Voltas causes me to open my eyes. The red is gone. I can see myself in his opaque black mask. Pale and shaken. My circuitry glowing feebly. Everything is being sucked away.

System failing.

* * *

Before everything else, sense of touch comes back to me. I can feel the soft object that I lie upon. I recognize the object as my couch. I become aware of the careless positioning of my body. The steady flow of energy within my body. Then comes my hearing. There are programs near me. My eyes flutter open. My vision turns in and out of focus. All around me, colors swirl in vague shapes of people. The room becomes sharper. There is a program leaning over me, in his hands is an I.D.

Mine. He's scrolling through its contents.

I shoot up from my lying position and snatch it from his grasp. The program releases a shout of fright and skips backwards. My disc surges angrily in my clenched hand as I raise it threatening over him.

"CLU!"

I stop in my tracks and look over to see Merkury and Voltas.

"What's going on?" I demand.

"He was only trying to assist you." Merkury answered dully.

I clench my teeth down at the Basic before me.

"You dare view the contents of an Administrator's I.D.?" I ask quietly.

"No! I mean, I was only trying to repair you! I did not view anything that I, um-"

I do not know how long he had been within my CPU or what he may have seen or uncovered. My past actions, my personal thoughts, my private convictions. The image of the ISO is burned into my skull and I panic to think he may have viewed any of my shameful thoughts about her. I look into his dark eyes and watched his hands. My strike was quick enough that he didn't even have time to move them up in defense. Pixels broke and crumbled from his throat. He choked and staggered backwards into the wall. He stared at me as he sank downward. His body was nothing but cubes by the time it touched the floor.

"He saved you, CLU." came Merkury's voice.

I remain quiet as I return my I.D. to its holster on my back. He saved me. Saved me from? I recall my system crashing. That… _thing_. That presence that I felt and attempted to identify had a firewall. Powerful enough to shock my system and cause it to fail.

I close my eyes and I can still see the body outline and the glow of orange-yellow.

There's only one reason why a program would have my color. I slowly open my eyes and stare at the pile of pixels on the floor.

"Voltas. I want a full System scan completed by the next millicycle. Keep an eye out for irregularities, viruses, and unauthorized code changes." I softly commanded.

The security program's broad boots passed before my line of vision before he exited the room. Merkury eagerly approached me.

"Something has happened. What is it?"

I turn to the grand window and beckon her to do the same.

"Do you believe in the System, Merkury?"

I watched as a transporter flew by my tower, illuminating both our faces in a dark red glow.

"Yes, of course I do."

"Do you believe in the supremacy of programs?" I ask quietly.

"Always." her voice is strong in conviction.

"There are those that do not believe in these things. They will come and destroy all that we've accomplished. They will come to destroy me."

I turn towards the female to see a frown pulling at her lips.

"Gain the trust of the defected. Feed them false information. I will be out of commission for a short time as I recover from the episode I just had. Tell them it was because you attempted to assassinate me with a virus."

"But why-"

"I need you to become closer to them. They may be harboring a dangerous program. One that may be here to destroy me and subsequently the entire System. Do you compute, Merkury?"

She looked hesitant but gave the tiniest of nods.

"As you command, CLU."

* * *

I remember many cycles ago when Flynn explained what happens when Users die. They leak blood. It is their form of energy or life source. Then their bodies remain. He explained that they _decompose_. A process of the deceased becoming part of its surroundings.

I think of this as I watch the slain program's pixels. The small cluster begins to melt away into the floor. The energy becoming recycled and used for other purposes. I suppose this is our way of _decomposing_.

I begin to wonder what will happen when I become deleted. I do not like the thought of my energy being used somewhere else, or by someone else. I wish all of me, all of my essence, to cease to exist when my time comes because… it is mine.

My thoughts lead me into desiring the company of the ISO. No other program thinks the way I do about existence… only her. I suddenly become soddened with feeling of emptiness in my domicile. The compressing quietness.

I drop my head into my hands.

* * *

"You look ill."

I begin to hate myself from the pleasure that her voice causes me. Have I really been so lonely?

An eyebrow twitches at her concern, "Something happened that has left my system afflicted for the time being…"

"What happened?"

"My system crashed and…" I trail off.

My eyes trace over her hanging body and the strange look upon her face."

While I was rebooting, I saw images. They weren't memories. I do not know what they were." I whispered.

The ISO frowns deeply at this.

"You had a dream. I've had them before."

A dream. Flynn always spoke of his dreams to me. I understood what they were without true experience. I do not like dreams. They are uncontrolled thoughts. The images that flashed through my mind were uncontrollable and I lacked the ability to halt them… Though however much I can deny it, I enjoyed the images I saw. It was after the fact, when I regained my consciousness and logic that I became disturbed and irritated.

"Flynn had always said that you were special. I'm beginning to understand why."

I give her a dark look. For some reason, Flynn's thoughts that I was a special or unique program did not comfort me. Rather, a caving feeling erupted in my chest and filled with anger.

"What did you dream about, CLU?"

An unpleasant smile slowly forms on my lips. "It was Flynn. Dead at my feet."

She squints at me through her thick, dark lashes. "You're lying."

The smile disappears and my face is left vacant. "We were talking. He was young again and everything was as it should have been."

Her face softens at my answer and I cannot stand it. My features scrunch into a scowl in return as I look away from her.

"You were not present. In fact, there were no ISOs at all and the rift that came between Flynn and I never occurred." I added in a spiteful tone.

"CLU." her voice is so soft. She is pleading me to look at her again. She repeats my name and I cannot help but stare at her from the corner of my eye. Her head is tilted in attempt to see more of my face but I do not give her the pleasure.

"Why did you trap him here?" comes her quiet question.

I close my eyes and withdraw a breath. "I've come to compute horrible User emotions, ISO." I begin in a tired voice.

I open my eyes. Slowly, the fabric of my gloves retracts into my suit. The cubes folding away to reveal my humanoid skin beneath. With my palms up, my gaze traces every line and groove.

"Just as worse as the feeling of having no real purpose, is the feeling of being left behind. To be forgotten by someone that you cannot forget."

My memories go on replay inside my head, making my old feelings tangible and painful. My fingers curl and my hands turn into violent fists. I can feel my round nails digging into my palms.

"He was going to leave and take the ISOs. He would no longer need the System or I. So you see, I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want to be forgotten."

I finally look at her. Those blue eyes that I cannot forget, they are now glassy. We just stare at one another. I do not know why I told her the truth. Maybe I needed someone to say it to. Why not her? A being that knew Flynn almost as much as I. A being that felt as much as I.

I feel as though my system is incomplete. I feel as though my body were hallowed. It must be in my stare because her eyes are becoming wetter and wetter. I step close to her and watch as the liquid overflows. A single tear travels down her face.

She is so strange to cry. She is not being hurt. She is not being torn apart by my words. She is crying because of me speaking about my feelings. I do not understand her.

I reach a bare hand up and wipe away the tear with my thumb. Her eyes close in a grimace as my palm brushes her cheek. Her warmth and energy sears into my skin. It strikes my brain with a nearly unbearable sensation.

Her doleful eyes reopen, more tears spilling out and onto my hand. I cannot bring myself to pull away from her. Her quiet crying creates a hum within my chest.

"Are you crying for me, ISO?" I ask in a gentle voice.

She says nothing, but tries to lie in a sad little shake of her head. It's that compassion of hers. The same warming and yet weak virtue that existed within Flynn. Any bit of violence and hostility I rain upon her, she readily forgives. I kill her friends, make her an outcast, rip her apart from her master, and chain her in a cell... And she cries for _me_. I am enamored by her empathy.

She simply stares into me. Pitingly, fearfully. I cannot stand myself and I cannot stand how she has made me feel. I am enraged in one moment and longing for her the next. My despondency is eternal. She does not want me to be this close to her. I can see it in her hopeless face.

"You were supposed to be nothing." comes my fervent whisper. "You've done something to me." my voice is stained heavily with my misery.

Her lips part as her head gives the slightest of shakes in her denial. My gaze follows the slope of her upper lip, down the soft plumpness of the bottom.

Would it be so terrible? Would it be such a calamity?

To want her as badly as I do?

When I look back into her eyes, I become trapped yet again. My own eyelids are heavier than I recall as I search through them. I am in the dark outer rim, swimming in passed streams of white ice. I swim into the orange spikes that guard her pupil. It is only present when I am close to her.

My thumb slides down from her cheek to rest on her bottom lip. My opposite hand coming up to rest gently on her neck. I dip my head downwards towards her. The orange spikes in her eyes spread like fire, reaching the ends of the iris. My color. Me. There is black poison slithering through my circuitry. My thoughts become darker and darker. My hand tightens on her neck.

I can feel her breath becoming shallower and shallower until my nose touches hers and her intake of breath stops completely. She whispers something. I could not hear it, but rather, felt the formation of the words from the breath that left her mouth. _No_, it said.

I look up into her eyes. Horror and fright are churning beneath the orange hue. I feel something coiling up in the pit of my stomach. The serenity I felt was replaced with spite.

"You see Flynn's eyes staring into your own? You cannot stand my face because it's _his_." I whisper vehemently against her lips.

I know then… I know what can hurt her more than anything. And that's what I want her to do. I want her to hurt. I want her to hate me, just like I do her. I do not want her to cry for me. I want her to curse my existence.

"Let me haunt you, ISO. In your coding, in the _dreams _that you have. Every time you try and think of Flynn's face, you will only be able to see _mine_."

My lips move against hers in a hard, rough manner.

Everything begins to feel far gone.

Her lips are so stiff in their reluctance. Though unyielding, I can still feel the velvety promises they have. The feel of her flesh against my own is annihilating me. Her voice reverberates in her mouth in her protests. I can feel it vibrating against my own lips. My fingers curl possessively into her dark hair.

I nip hard on her lip. Her quick intake of breath is all I need to plunge my tongue in. I am rough and unapologetic. Flashes of memories are leaking through. I see old friends and mentors. I see Flynn. I can hear his voice. There is electricity traveling between our lips. I can feel it shocking my tongue. It causes me to tremble. I tear myself away from her to cut off the connection.

There is color illuminating her pale cheeks as well as her lips. I feel intoxicated. I can feel her inside my head. Her electricity is thundering in my system. I dip my head downwards and breathe heavily against her ear.

"CLU!"

Fear penetrates my mind as I twist myself around to the doorway. My chest thunders as I am pierced by Merkury's cold, calculating stare. The outside light filters around her, spreading across the floor like a bridge to where the ISO and I stood. There is a low, whirring of mechanical sounds as Voltas steps into view behind her. The fear awakens me and tears my mind from its cloudiness.

"What are you doing?" her voice cracks like a whip.


End file.
